The Sociopathy Of Uchiha Sasuke
by Sir Lucifer Morningstar
Summary: ...because you can't simply use Tsukuyomi on a bloody seven-year-old and not expect serious consequences.
1. Prologue

**This story is because:**

 **A. Was feeling a bit repetitive with my continuous Gamer/SI fics, and**

 **B. Decided to branch out into another type of story in order to spice up my writing.**

 **Not gonna take much precedence, since I'm just 'experimenting' with this idea.**

 **But, hey, this is my first ever fic on this site that deals with an actual canon character as the MC. I chose Sasuke because there is no fucking way I can write Ninja-Jesus-Naruto as the MC of my story without making it a Dark!Naruto fic. Ah, but Sasuke (with some creative license) is right up my alley.**

 **Without further adieu, the warnings:**

 **WARNING! This story contains instances and/or mentions of assault, psychological torture, regular torture, rape, underaged sex, manipulation, gaslighting, dubious consent, drugs, self-harm and/or mutilation, and stuff that is considered almost as edgy as Batman V Superman. You will be disturbed, perturbed, and curse the day your mother decided to birth you.**

 **You have been warned.**

* * *

 **The Sociopathy of Uchiha Sasuke**

 _…because you can't simply use Tsukuyomi on a bloody seven-year-old and not expect serious consequences._

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

 _How many times had it been now?_

"Foolish little brother."

 _How long had it been?_

"Sasuke-kun! Run!"

"Mikoto!"

 _He wasn't sure. What was time to him, anyway?_

"This is so I can test the limits of my ability."

 _He said that… but… did it really matter?_

 _Hey… Ni-san, does your limit really matter?_

Steel.

Blood.

Tears.

Screams.

The same cycle, repeated, endlessly. The manner in which they repeated was never the same. In some versions, his mother and father fought back. In others, they sat still and let the blade sink through their necks, the blood falling unto the floor, their bodies following. In the rarest versions, even _he_ was crying as he killed them. Sometimes it was blood. Other times, tears. The mish-mash of different ways made him wonder which was real. Which was fake, which was real, he didn't know. He stopped trying to find out.

In terms of life experience, his combined time under the jutsu was far longer than the actual number of years he had been alive. Or, at least, it felt longer. Wasn't it longer? It should be. He wasn't sure anymore. His seven years of life experience felt meagre in comparison to the amount of years he'd been watching the endless cycle of his parent's death by the hands of the one person he admired the most.

His throat felt nonexistent. There was an itch. It was irritating, and it came with a sound that made little sense to his ears. The sound was irritating, high-pitched, and it wouldn't die down. It just remained with the itch, and it stayed at the background no matter what happened.

He began to take note of the details. The scents. The tastes. The sounds. He observed the fights, if they could even be called that. The sheen of the sword. The swiftness at which they cut through bone and sinew. The redness of the blood that stained them. He started counting the drops and splatters. They were always the same. Fourteen small, six medium, one large. He listened to the sound of his mother's screams. Belatedly, he realized that this nightmare was the only place where he would hear her voice again. Ever.

He felt old. Older than he should be. The throbbing ache of seeing his parents cut down died after the first two thousand times or so. His attempts to rush to them and save them or warn them stopped after the first four thousand. Now, he stared at the entire scene that happened with nothing but slight boredom.

"S-S-S-Sasuke-kun –"

There she was. She would come, as always, crawling and calling out his name. She would drag her blood-covered form across the floor, her hand stretching out, and reaching for him.

"H-H-H –"

As always, fifteen seconds in, she would attempt to call for help. She would stutter the initial letter three times, before, two and a half-seconds later –

Blood-splatter.

The blade would sink into the back of her head.

Brain-matter.

It would drip down from the ANBU-blade. Three large chunks. Fourteen Medium. Twenty-eight small. Fourteen specks of blood follow and fall down on her hair.

Then, the condescending voice.

"Foolish little brother."

The spinning red eyes.

Rinse.

Repeat.

…

Repeat.

Repeat.

 _Repeat_.

* * *

"How is he?"

"So far, his vitals are stable Hokage-sama. There were only a few superficial wounds and bruises found on his person."

"Then why hasn't he awakened?"

"Our… diagnostics scans have confirmed significant amounts of alterations to his brain structure – and… there is no simple way to put this Hokage-sama, he has undergone severe mental stress and psychological damage that would have left even the most hardened shinobi brain dead… it's a miracle he is still mostly intact."

Sarutobi Hiruzen grimaced. He felt he was getting far too old for his job. His bones creaked and his entire body was wrought with discomfort. Yet, he knew that he only had but a few minutes to spare with the boy. An entire clan being wiped out at night meant there was work to be done. Roles to be replaced. Funerals to be held, and significant amounts of damage control to run.

"Keep me updated on his status, and let me know when he wakes."

"Hai Hokage-sama."

* * *

Eyes.

Open.

Failed. Cannot open. Why?

Weak.

Very weak.

Cannot move.

Body refuses.

Smell?

Clean. Too clean. Artificially clean. Hospital?

Sound?

Beeps. Steady beeping. Voices. Distinct. Cannot understand. Hospital – increased possibility.

Taste?

Dry.

Parched.

Water.

Need. Need.

Water.

 _Speak. Speak._

"W-w-" he rasped. He disliked the sound of his voice. "W-w-w-water."

"Ah!"

"He's awake?"

"Quickly, contact Hokage-sama!"

"W-w-water."

"And get some water! Now!"

* * *

He forgot.

He forgot there were other people in the world. Aside from his clan. Aside from his parents. Aside from their killer.

He forgot there was a village called Konoha.

A man called the Hokage.

Individuals called Shinobi.

He forgot how things were supposed to work in this outside world.

"Sasuke-kun," the old man was attempting to convey an emotion. What emotion was it again? "I know this might be very difficult for you –"

 _Why would it be difficult for me?_

The man's lips seemed to change. It indicated something. He could not tell what it was. But it was not positive. No.

"It might be difficult because of the circumstances."

 _How did he know what I was thinking?_

"Sasuke-kun, your brother, Itachi –"

 _He slaughtered my parents and my clan, and said he did it to test his limits._

The Hokage's face had another negative. There was something. _Something_.

"Itachi… said that?"

 _How do you know what I'm thinking?_

He turned his attention to one of the men in the room. Blonde-haired. There was something about him.

"I see. Very well. We will immediately place Itachi in the Bingo Books, as an S-Rank Criminal, to be brought in Dead and Alive."

 _Oh. Is that all?_

The man's face twisted again. For someone so old, he had a lot of expressions. While under that jutsu, the only expressions Sasuke saw were those of fear, terror or rage. He knew there were more than three. He was certain. Yet, he could not remember any of them. Place them. Name them. Recall them. _Feel_ them.

"Itachi will face justice for his crimes, Sasuke-kun. I understand that he was your brother, and you might feel… something toward him –"

 _What am I supposed to feel toward him?_

How… how did he feel of him before now? Before this… when he mentioned his brother, Itachi, he would be filled with _something_ – there was _something_ he felt – when his lips were upturned and his mouth was moving wildly and exaggeratedly – what was that called?

The old man kept regarding him with different faces. There was something he felt he was missing.

 _But what?_

"Sasuke-kun, this is Yamanaka Inoichi – a foremost at the mind arts, and a member of Konoha's Yamanaka Clan."

 _The blonde man_. Sasuke turned his gaze towards him.

"He is here to help you come to terms with any unresolved issues you may have with…" a pause. Sasuke noted it. The hesitation. "…with the loss of your family and clan."

Numerous gazes in his direction. Anticipation. Anticipation for something. A reaction? From him? Why? Was he supposed to react to that? Positively? Negatively? It was a fact – wasn't it?

 _Okay_.

Their gazes turned negative. Was that the wrong response? An unusual reaction? Strange. His parents and clan were gone. He'd seen it. Again. And again. And again. Enough times to memorize the botches and splashes on their clothes when they died. Was he supposed to deny their deaths? Why?

"Sasuke-kun," the blonde man – Yamanaka – spoke "please don't be afraid to tell us how you feel."

 _Why would I be afraid?_

The man paused. "Often times, when bad things happen to people, they hide and bottle up all the feelings they have because they can't come to terms with it. It is common, but not healthy at all." His expression changed. "So you don't need to do that."

 _I'm not doing that._

"Often times, they also use denial to –"

 _I'm not denying anything._

There was something in his expression. "Sasuke-kun, I understand that this must be difficult –"

 _It isn't. Why do you insist it is?_

"Your family is gone, Sasuke." He said.

 _And?_

The room was quiet. Too quiet. Was that the wrong thing to say?

"Your family is gone and your brother is responsible. How does that make you feel?"

…

 _Irritated._

The man seemed satisfied. "Now, we're getting somewhere Sasuke-kun. Why are you irritated?"

 _Because I don't know how to cook, and my mother couldn't have been bothered to teach me before she died._

Silence again. He said the wrong thing again. He needed to change it.

 _Don't blame her, it's not her fault. She would have taught me if she knew Itachi would slit her throat one day._

There. That should make things better.

* * *

He was starting to realize that there was no point in ever truly stating his mind. No matter what he said, what he held, their expressions would mostly be negative. He could not understand their lack of candidness, nor did he even understand the reason why they often seemed to have negative reactions to his frankness.

"Don't you want to go to your clan's funeral Sasuke-kun?"

 _Why would I do that?_

"To say your final farewells."

 _They're dead. I don't think corpses can hear me._

His sessions with the Yamanaka doubled from that moment on, which, Sasuke realized were incredibly irritating and constricting. The insistence of the man that he was 'bottling' something or 'denying' something was becoming overwhelmingly tedious.

"What are your goals for the future Sasuke-kun?"

 _Becoming strong._

"Why do you want to become strong?"

 _So I can kill Itachi_.

"Do you want to get vengeance for your clan Sasuke-kun?"

 _No._

"So why do you want to kill Itachi?"

 _Because he might change his mind._

"Change his mind?"

 _About letting me live._

"Can you explain Sasuke-kun?"

 _He let me live because he said I was too weak to be worth killing._

 _I want to kill him before he changes his mind._

"…And after you do that Sasuke-kun, what will you do?"

 _Rebuild my clan._

"Do you plan to start a family, Sasuke-kun?"

 _Isn't that the condition to rebuilding my clan?_

"That isn't an answer Sasuke-kun."

 _No, it isn't._

* * *

Eventually, he came to a balance. A "Mask" he called it. It was the only way they would let him leave the hospital and the supervision of Yamanaka, and without it, he would be stuck pointlessly answering questions for much longer.

"Ah, how are you feeling today Uchiha-san?"

He sat on the bed. His gaze flickered over to the nurse. Most certainly, she was another one of Yamanaka's plants here to conduct a 'hidden' experiment on his 'social' capacity and mental wellbeing. She was a genuine nurse, but this did not prevent her from being another tool in the man's arsenal.

This was the way adults worked, he realized. With 'tools' of various forms and abilities, but somehow, they refused to blatantly and explicitly admit that they utilized people as tools, and instead found euphemism upon euphemism in order to express these sentiments. It was tiring and needless. Posturing and pointless.

They called it: 'Politeness.'

"Fine. A little bit hungry."

The nurse gave him an expression that he now recalled, thanks to Yamanaka's lessons, was called a 'smile.' He remembered having this expression a lot, before the massacre. Now, it felt foreign.

"Are the portions of the meals provided not enough?"

He remembered, that it was often considered appropriate to air one's grievances in small amounts. Excessively stating it would be considered 'whining' or 'complaining' and would be a disagreeable trait. Understating it would make one be considered a 'softy' or 'spineless' and was likewise a disagreeable trait.

"It's not about quantity. It's the quality."

The 'smile' did not leave her face. If anything, an aspect of authenticity was added to it.

"You don't like the Hospital food Uchiha-san?"

 _I would not feed it to dogs were I perchance to own them._

He could not state that, of course, no matter how true he felt such a sentiment was. Rather, he needed to appeal to the nurse's own instincts in order to ensure his disapproval possessed a reasonable, grounded basis. A basis in which she could 'relate' with.

"I miss the food my mother used to make me." He said. "There was… _more_ , to it."

He found it difficult to place the emotion on the nurse's face. However, it seemed to hover somewhere between discomfort and what Yamanaka called 'sympathy.' Yamanaka often, not so subtly, implied that he ought to possess 'more' of it, and that he was lacking in it.

He ignored the irrelevance of that thought and focused instead on his next approach. Offers of aid or assistance – requesting 'favors' from people often supposedly had numerous benefits.

"Would you… be able to help me, get some snacks from outside… please?"

"A-ah – well, I'm not really supposed to –"

"I won't tell anyone. And it would mean a lot."

Hesitation. Uncertainty. Eventually, reluctance and acceptance.

"Fine… I suppose just this once." She said. "What would you like to have?"

He memorized the exact pattern of her lips. The way and manner it creased and curved and upturned in her 'smile.' His brain, the brain of an Uchiha, hardwired with neurons and synapses configured for the ability to copy and record information courtesy of their eyes, focused on that image, and flawlessly, he replicated it.

Uchiha Sasuke 'smiled.'

"What would you recommend?"

* * *

Yamanaka Inoichi rubbed his nose in irritation.

"I can't _believe_ she did that!"

 _This was bad._

"I _know_! I mean – there the doctor was, and she sauntered in with her robes and just draped herself all over him – _in the middle of a consultation_!"

 _This was worse than he anticipated_.

"Maybe she didn't see the patient?"

"I wouldn't really blame her, she's known for being such an airhead at times –"

He coughed into his hand, standing at the special ward that was designated for Uchiha Sasuke, and within the room, the blonde-haired nurse sitting on the patient's hospital bed and chatting away animatedly went rigid as she immediately sat up straight and tried her best to look professional.

"Y-Yamanaka-sama – I was just – checking his vitals –"

He turned his attention to the young boy who was on the bed, his face the complete mask of innocence, as he held two sticks of pocky in his fingers and slowly munched on it.

"So I see." He said without inflexion, before turning to the boy in question. "Enjoying your snack, Sasuke-kun?"

The boy 'smiled' at him. If Yamanaka Inoichi was not an expert in the mind arts, and someone who had spent years in the Torture and Interrogation department, he would have believed that smile was the genuine article. No, even with all his experience, it was only the prior knowledge he possessed of the circumstances that enabled him to understand the fact that the smile was not real.

Even more so, because he knew exactly where he had seen that smile before.

"Nurse, I believe we should allow Sasuke-kun some more bedrest."

He walked out, and the nurse, understanding the words, followed him. He made sure to go pass the ANBU guards stationed outside the boy's door, and past a reasonable enough distance, before turning around and landing a stern glare at the woman in question.

"And _what_ exactly do you think you were doing?"

"Yamanaka-sama – I was conversing with him as you said! He even asked me to purchase some snacks and –"

"No," Inoichi shook his head. "You weren't talking to him. You were talking to _yourself_."

"W-what?"

Inoichi sighed. "That boy… he wasn't interested in a single thing you said. Most likely, he will remember every word you uttered and every joke, every laugh and every motion – but he was not _invested_ in a word you said or a thing you had to say. He was _observing_ you. Using you as a reference for how to act and behave and what to say –" he felt his irritation grow.

"Problematically, at a point, he stopped observing you and started _copying_ you. Mimicking everything you did or said. You _failed_ to take note of this – because you, like most people – felt flattered by his seeming interest, and now – now you've cemented it in his mind that all he needs to do to properly function is copy what the other person is doing."

And he did it to a frightening level of accuracy that was almost unnerving.

"He – he was copying me? But how – I mean, it didn't feel like – he responded to everything I said and –"

"It didn't _feel_ like you were talking to yourself?"

She nodded, slowly.

Inoichi knew why this was, because he, unlike most people, knew basic biology. "It's because he's an Uchiha."

"…an Uchiha?"

"Contrary to what most people think, we don't _see_ with our eyes. We see with our _brains_. Our eyes are merely cameras reflecting light, and it is our brain that makes sense of that information and renders it for us in what we call sight." Inoichi explained. "Clans with Dojutsu not only have different eyes, they have different brain structures to go with them. The Uchiha Clan's Sharingan which grants the ability to copy Jutsu and memorize information without forgetting has unexpected influence on their brain structure."

The Yamanaka Clan Head frowned. "Sasuke is essentially using parts of his brain connected with his Sharingan's sight and ability – even without realizing it. He is _memorizing everything_ , storing it, and then _recreating it_ in a manner that would suite him, whilst removing any imperfections that don't fit along the way."

Imitating? No, he wasn't just imitating her. He was going above and beyond. He was recreating and _improving_ her. She was talking to a version of herself that could realistically apply to a seven-year-old male, and that was _better_ than her. It was essentially copying a jutsu, and then using it in a way that fit you _perfectly_ , which made it _better_ and _more effective_ than anything the original user could muster.

Hopefully, he didn't even realize he was doing it. However, that was unlikely.

Worse? He had seen its effectiveness first hand, meaning, he would not stop doing it.

Anyone who spoke to Uchiha Sasuke would essentially be speaking to a version of themselves they could only wish they were.

It would be good, a powerful, deadly skill that Inoichi would have wished upon anyone, _anyone_ , but a seven-year-old. The sheer capacity for abuse of such power, willingly or unwillingly, was enormous.

He could not, in his good conscience, let that happen.

* * *

"Sasuke-kun –"

"Inoichi-san –"

"I know what you're doing Sasuke-kun."

"And what am I doing, Inoichi-san?"

"You cannot simply copy other people's personalities and project it back at them."

"Is there a reason why I should not?"

Inoichi found his own temperament getting slightly annoyed at seeing Sasuke's expression. It was a dead-on impression of his own, and it was incredibly unnerving when he realized that the speech patterns and mannerisms were copied down to the letter. Even his gaze, his sitting position, his _unconscious movements_ –

"Because it's impolite Sasuke-kun."

"Is it more or less impolite than my normal behaviour?"

Inoichi paused. Since the boy woke up, he seemed to lose the ability to understand emotions or read certain social cues. He was frank and blunt, but out of ignorance, which was also highly problematic and, if he was being honest, it was also incredibly aggravating.

"We're not comparing them."

"Because you know I would default on the one that is less impolite."

"I didn't say that, Sasuke-kun."

"But you didn't have to, Inoichi-san."

Inoichi found his patience waning.

"You are discomforted." Sasuke said, nodding his head in a placating manner.

"That would be putting it mildly."

"Why?"

"Because I am attempting to help you Sasuke-kun, and this, this won't make you better."

"Why are you attempting to help me?" Sasuke asked.

"Because it's my job."

"So if it were not your job, you would not attempt to help me?"

Inoichi frowned. "I would still try to help you."

"Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, Sasuke-kun."

"Inoichi-san, are you trying to help me because it's the right thing to do, or because you want to be able to hold your head high and say 'I did the right thing'?"

Inoichi paused at the question.

"That's an unfair question to ask Sasuke-kun."

"So it's for the latter. And also because Hokage-sama asked you to, didn't he? It would lower your credibility if you failed at helping me, but increase it if you succeed."

"…what are you getting at?"

"No one does anything for selfless reasons Inoichi-san. So why do we pretend to?"

"That worldview is too cynical for a child."

"I stopped being a child when my parents died, Inoichi-san."

Inoichi did not have a suitable retort to that.

"I thought you didn't care about their deaths."

"Why would you think that?"

"You don't grieve for them. Mourn them. Nor did you bother attempting to attend their funerals."

"I saw them die thousands of times. Again and again and again. Inoichi-san, you would forgive me, if I don't want to see them dead _one last time_."

Inoichi resisted the urge to wince. He resisted it, and realized he was getting somewhere. Strange as it was, Sasuke, while doing his best to imitate him, did not realize that he was finally opening up. Asking the hard questions. Answering the difficult ones. By pretending to be someone else, and absorbing that person's personality into his own –

Could…

Could this actually be a good thing?

The potential for disaster was present, but now, he realized, the potential for healing was also present.

"Sasuke-kun, you never talk about the Genjutsu that Itachi put you under."

"Why should I talk about it, Inoichi-san?"

"It left a significant amount of damage on your psyche Sasuke-kun. Don't you think that's worth discussing?"

"No."

Inoichi frowned. _He pushed too hard_. He pushed too hard too fast and the boy clammed up again. Already, he could see it, he stopped copying him. He stopped being 'Yamanaka Inoichi' and returned to his default. A seven-year-old boy with perpetually sharp-yet-dull expression, and eyes which scanned the world whilst simultaneously appearing expressionless.

Inoichi knew that it was impossible for him to completely fix all of Uchiha Sasuke's problems. Most likely, the best he could do was ensure that the boy could return to society as a fully functioning member with the occasional one or two quirks and hiccups. You could not be a shinobi without eccentricities or coping mechanisms, as the amount of violence and chaos you witnessed in your lifetime would leave you scarred mentally, physically and emotionally.

But when you start out with scars –

It became slightly worse. Hatake Kakashi sprung to mind, the boy who returned home to his father's suicide – he had grown and developed, but eventually, that original scar never faded, and more and more kept compiling upon them. Losing his best friend, having to kill his teammate who had romantic feelings for him, and then losing his mentor and father-figure. Too many for one boy. Now, he had thrown himself into ANBU work and was doing more and more S-Rank and A-Rank missions, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that the young boy craved death as an escape.

What sort of individual would Uchiha Sasuke become, when the extra scars were compiled on top of this one? On top of having his entire family and clan massacred at the hand of the one person he idolized the most? What would happen if he fell in love and then lost his lover, or made friends and watched them die, or any other number of common events that came with their lifestyle?

How many scars could he take before it became too many?

At what point would he break?

"When can I leave this place Yamanaka?"

Uchiha Sasuke spoke, and Yamanaka Inoichi took a long, deep breath.

"Today."

* * *

The whispers were everywhere.

"That's him?"

"The Last Uchiha –"

"Oh dear, that poor thing –"

"I can't believe what happened – his own brother –"

"Shush! He can probably hear you!"

He could hear them. All of them. Their miserable attempts at being discreet failed horrendously and he could overhear each and every word and each and every whisper. For now, two ANBU guards were his escorts. In 'secret' of course, as they watched him from the rooftops whilst he voyaged the streets and roads alone.

Their words, he realized, were born out of 'pity.' An emotion which was supposedly thought to be noble, but was rather an elevated and socially-accepted form of degradation. Pity was born from the sense and feeling that you were _better off_ or _superior_ to that in which deserved your sympathy. One could not pity someone who was more fortunate than themselves.

He would admit that their pity was something which irritated him. However, he also saw the potential benefits where they lay. One who was pitied could leverage that emotion and convert it into guilt, which was a prime emotion needed to extract favors. He made sure to pay attention to those who pitied him, and made sure to note later if there would be something of benefit to gain from those individuals.

Eventually, he made his way to his clan compound. He stopped at the gates. A nagging sensation on his neck. He wasn't sure how long it was that he stood at the gates of the compound.

 _Back here._

The last time he entered this place –

He disregarded the sensation and irrationality of the belief that Itachi was still inside. Still waiting. Still ready to finish off the job. Still ready to look down and him, and call him –

" _Foolish little brother."_

The place was empty.

Empty.

Previously bustling and moving, filled with children, noises, sounds, people, events and activities. The absence of these things made him feel like it was an illusion. Somehow.

The sight of this place, filled with people running from Itachi's blade felt more real than the sight of it empty.

Silent.

Perfectly silent.

His every footstep echoed.

His sandals crunching against sand and granite reverberated.

He made his way back to his house. He stood in front of the door. Slowly, he opened it.

His nose was immediately assaulted with the smell of blood.

" _S-s-sasuke –kun –"_

A part of him immediately expected his mother to crawl on the floor, bleeding, and to beg for him to saver her. He counted the seconds.

She wasn't there.

This was real.

 _This is real_.

…And they'd removed the bodies, but no one had touched the house. No one had cleaned it. The blood splatters were still there. The trails were still there. The smells were still there.

Uchiha Sasuke took a look at his empty house.

And his throat itched.

And that noise, that irritating noise that had always been with him in the genjutsu –

He heard it in full force.

He finally knew what it was. Finally, he understood.

It was his scream.


	2. You Will Remember

**Whoa, what the fuck? This story has follows? Huh. I thought everyone was always too busy sucking Naruto's dick to care about a Sasuke-fic. Strange.**

* * *

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Roll.

Dip.

Squeeze.

Drop.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Uchiha Sasuke took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow as his gaze landed once more on the living room, which, after several hours, was now effectively devoid of blood. Spotless, sparkling, enough so that he could see his own dull-faced reflection in the floor. The overwhelming smell of bleach filled the room, penetrating his nostrils and stinging at his eyes. The only audible sound present was the slow, repetitive _tick-tock, tick-tock,_ of the room's wall clock.

His gaze flickered to what had previously been a clear bucket of soapy water. Red. It was tinged an overwhelming red that seemed to be the hallmark of the Uchiha Clan. Red blood. Red eyes. Red fan. Red fire.

Red.

 _Foolish little brother –_

He took in a sharp breath, shaking his head as he prevented the memory of the scene from replaying in his mind. It was burned into his retinas, scarred into his brain, that even the slightest thing could cause it to repeat, like a broken song stuck on an endless loop.

 _Tick._

 _Tock._

 _Tick._

 _Tock._

He sat in the room, the silent room, the entirely silent compound, and found his lips pursing themselves in distaste. Mechanically, his eyes swung over to the clock that hung above.

 **11:43 AM**

Sasuke realized he hadn't eaten in hours. Although the hospital food was arguably distasteful, it was better than going on, completely hungry. He rose from his position on the pristine floor, staring once more at his reflection. The image he saw almost felt foreign. He lifted the bucket filled with bloody water, grabbed the rag, and carefully, moved out of the living room and to the bathroom. He dumped the contents of the bucket into the toilet, flushing it immediately afterwards.

He found the red tint disagreeable.

He grabbed the bleach and soap once more, and went to work.

 _Scrub._

 _Scrub._

 _Scrub._

 _Scrub_

 _Scrub._

The dull echo of someone knocking against the living room door made him stop his cleaning. He'd long since moved on from cleaning the toilet to scrubbing the bathroom, and gone from scrubbing the bathroom back to scrubbing the floors without even noticing.

"Uchiha-san… are you in there?"

He contemplated not responding, but realized that it would lead to more problems than he desired. Slowly, he rose, moving to the door, before sliding it open. His gaze took in the sight of his visitors effortlessly, with one look, he'd memorized their brown hair, clearly defined fangs, musculature and appearance. Both were female. The older one was accompanied by what appeared to be a wolf, and the younger one was unaccompanied by any animals.

"Good afternoon, Uchiha-san."

It was the younger one who spoke. Sasuke estimated her age, about two to three years older than himself. Young, by most standards, but not by the standards of shinobi. The older woman seemed to be eyeing him warily, as was the wolf. There was an intelligence in the creature's eyes that had no place being there.

"So… Sasuke is it." The older woman spoke, and Sasuke realized he had not returned their greetings and had merely been observing them. The older woman had something of a rough voice, it suited her animalistic appearance.

He still didn't respond.

He noted, immediately, that his silence and straightforward stare seemed to unnerve them. Should he switch tactics? The last thing he desired was to be put back in the care of the Yamanaka and be asked trifling questions. It was entirely possible that these women were agents of either the Yamanaka or the Hokage, sent here as a test for him.

"Yes." He spoke up. "Can I help you with anything?"

His mind worked on overdrive as he scrutinized them. The younger girl, he catalogued and memorized every tick, every movement, everything from her posture, to the direction her feet pointed, to the manner in which she moved her hands and rested her shoulders.

Should he reflect them?

He thought it over. If they truly were Yamanaka agents, they would be on guard for such. It would not do him any benefits for everyone to become aware of what he was capable of. If people were consciously aware that he was reflecting their own personalities and opinions back at them, the effect would be deemed insulting and irritating, rather than charming. Yamanaka already proved this.

"I am Inuzuka Tsume. This is my daughter, Hana." The older woman responded. "We… came to offer our condolences at your loss."

Sasuke rose an eyebrow at the phrase. "What good are your condolences to me?"

The woman frowned deeply. Sasuke realized it was perhaps the wrong thing to say. Yet, he didn't really have it in him to attempt to say otherwise.

"Your mother was a close friend of mine."

"And I do not see how that makes your condolences any more valuable."

She growled a bit at him, and Sasuke could pick apart the tiny things from how her fists balled and how her posture grew wider that the woman was filled with the emotion called 'anger'.

"I heard what happened to you," she said, "But don't think that gives you the right to disrespect anyone you want, brat."

Sasuke's brow furrowed. "Disrespect?"

"Ka-san," the younger girl said, seemingly having a warning tone.

"No, Hana, I need to know," Tsume said, before turning her attention back on Sasuke. "You didn't even come for her funeral! Your mother's funeral! You haven't gone to pay any respects, or even visit her grave! Do you even _mourn_ her?"

Sasuke's lips thinned. He was by no means dull or slow. He could tell now, the real reason this woman had come to his doorsteps.

"You came to visit a recently orphaned child to ask him if he mourns his mother."

The woman winced at the statement.

"Leave." The boy spoke. "Don't come back."

The woman seemed to want to say something, but her wolf let out a slow growl, and she grit her teeth, before storming off. Sasuke watched her leave, before he noticed that the younger woman wasn't leaving.

"Please don't take anything my mother said personal… she was really close with Mikoto-san and is grieving and torn up about her death. But, she's so hot-headed that she doesn't know how to –"

"I don't care."

The girl flinched.

"Leave."

The girl bowed meekly, before walking away as well. Sasuke ensured that they'd left, exiting the Uchiha Clan Compound, before slowly turning around and closing his door.

The little encounter taught him three things.

One, his actions (or inactions) were being scrutinized. Was it such a big deal if a child refused to attend the funeral of all his family members? Of his extended cousins, uncles, and parents?

The answer was apparently yes. Reputation was an important thing in this village. It seemed to pride itself on a sense of _family_. A sense of communal relations. It would be deemed as more than odd, or perhaps a sign of ill-intentions if one did not apparently grieve or mourn for the deceased in a manner that could be seen and nodded to by the thralls of society.

How irritating.

Two, he needed to find a way to make sure no one could enter the Uchiha Clan Compound without him knowing. There were no more guards or sentries watching the place, and if Tsume and her mother had been a silent thief or an assassin instead, Sasuke would have had no way of knowing.

The third thing was perhaps the most obvious. _People are selfish._ Self-interest was what motivated Tsume, a selfish desire to alleviate whatever grief or sentiment she held about her friend's death. A selfish desire which led her here to make thoughtless comments.

At the end of the day, all she'd done was give Sasuke the ammunition to make requests of her in form of reparation, and have her be unable to refuse without further ruining her own reputation, which tied back to the first point.

Sasuke knew that politics was one of the major things his father dabbled in. Often times, he'd eavesdrop on his father's political lessons with his brother, listening to how his father explained that all of Konoha was filled with clans each jockeying and vying for as much power, control and strength that they desired. These lessons were often filled with comments as to how the village was afraid of the Uchiha, and how the Uchiha's political clout was being weakened through rumors of some sort.

He had paid little attention to it then, but now, he had no choice.

He was the Last Uchiha. A title that came with all the political responsibilities and significance. By all means, he was now the sole hope Konoha possessed to ever regain the Uchiha Clan.

He'd told Yamanaka that he stopped being a child when he watched his parents die in front of him.

He was only now realizing how true that was.

"I need to get started."

* * *

 **XXXXXXXXX**

* * *

"Are you certain you want to do this so soon Uchiha-san? I would understand if you –"

"I am."

Sasuke stared unerringly at the man in front of him. His gaze flickered lightly as he took in the man's appearance. His posture. His tone of voice. The expressions on his face. Then, slowly, he copied them, mimicked them, his hands entering a steeple, his smile calm and relaxing, his body language morphing to mimic even the tiniest movements.

The Banker stared at him, blinking, and no doubt confused as to his sudden change in disposition.

"Uchiha-san –"

"Matsumoto-san," he cut him off. "I understand and appreciate your concern for my mental well-being. It shows strength of character and compassion to be hesitant to immediately begin any business with what you feel is a grieving child."

Incline the head. Purse the lips. Narrow the eyes and quaver the voice slightly to add depth and realism.

"However," look straight up, display conviction. "I am the Last Uchiha. I must not waver nor falter. I cannot show weakness or lounge around in grief. To do so would be an insult to my clan, an offense to their honor. So, if you would be so kind as to let us commence business?"

The Banker stared, Sasuke monitored his reaction. Surprise. The tilting of the eyebrows and the slight widening of the pupils. Understanding.

"Ah – of course, of course Uchiha- _sama,_ I understand."

Sasuke noted the change in honorifics.

"Being one of the last living relative of anyone who bore the Uchiha surname in Konohagakure no Sato, you are now the owner of numerous bank accounts, lands, heirlooms, businesses, properties, houses and quite a deal more." The Banker reached for a pair of glasses, before bringing out a small parchment.

"Considering that many prominent members of the Uchiha Clan were shinobi and kunoichi who saved a majority of their earnings from missions, you have a _ridiculous_ fortune on your hands Uchiha-sama."

He knew. He wasn't _stupid_. His clan had never been poor, and although they were arguably not the wealthiest in the village, they ranked amongst the top five.

"There is more money here than could possibly be spent in one lifetime." Banker Matsumoto said. "Do you have a particular intention you wish to use it for?"

"Yes."

The Banker pulled off his glasses. Sasuke stared straight into his eyes.

"I'm going to use it to become better."

"Become… better?" The Banker frowned. "I am afraid I don't understand."

Sasuke mimicked and reflected the man's smile he'd copied earlier.

"You will."

* * *

 **XXXXXX**

* * *

Akimichi Chota would admit that she was confused with the extremely odd request brought to her by the recently orphaned Uchiha Heir.

"You'll pay me just to watch me… _cook_?"

"Yes."

He said the word earnestly, or rather, as earnestly as a child whose expression was blank and vacant could. Here at Yakinu Q, she admitted that she'd gotten some weird requests before, courtesy of numerous of her clan members desiring a different variety of food that was absolutely asinine to eat together, but this –

"Why?" she asked, rubbing the side of her cheek in confusion.

He seemed to struggle with something, before, eventually, he spoke. "My mother died before I could learn how. She always cooked meals at home, and I do not know how to cook for myself."

The woman winced slightly at the reminder. She looked over the boy again, remembering how young he was.

"It would help me if I watched you cook, so I could know how to do so for myself."

He bowed a bit.

"I understand that it is a selfish request, which is why I would reimburse you for your time with a suitable pay. Please accept my request."

 _So polite_! The manner in which he spoke reminded her more of a Hyuga than an Uchiha. She'd heard rumors that a powerful genjutsu had been used on him which made him cold and standoffish, but she didn't see that. No, she saw a recently orphaned child who simply had no idea how to interact with people and was doing his best to learn.

"Raise your head boy, please." She said with a sigh, watching as he did so. "I can't take your money, no matter how much it is." Taking money from an orphan child just so she could teach him to cook? If that got out, she'd be shaming not only herself, but her entire clan.

He opened his mouth, but she stopped him.

"I didn't say I wouldn't teach you, however."

He blinked, seemingly confused.

"I – I don't understand."

"What's there not to understand?"

"Teaching me without collecting any compensation. I would be intruding on your time, discomforting you from your daily activities and life without any recompense. Despite numerous drawbacks, why would you help me without any added benefits to yourself?"

"Because I'm an Akimichi boy!" she gave a hearty laugh "If I cannot so much as teach people about the glory and beauty of cooking a great meal, I'd have shamed my clan and ancestors."

The boy seemed to regard her for a few moments, before nodding slowly. "I understand. Your motivations are immaterial. Thank you."

 _He's a weird one though_ – "Er – I guess you could say that." She shrugged. "So, when do you want to start?"

The boy's eyes gleamed.

"Now."

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

Sasuke was irritated with this turn of events.

"Please let go of me Chota-sensei."

The woman was wrapped against him in a large hug, weeping comically. " _Prodigy_! You're a _prodigy_ Sasuke-chan! Oh! I'm so proud! If only my little Choji-kun could take to cooking as quickly as you do!"

The woman's grip was iron-clad. The difficulty he was having in prying her off was becoming absolutely ridiculous.

"To learn how to perfectly cut an onion into equivalent pieces from watching me do it once, to be capable of flawlessly following recipes from the cook book – it's your first time cooking and you've mastered cooking gourmet meals!"

A sharp gleam entered her eyes.

"Sasuke-chan, would you mind becoming part of my family? I'd adopt you and –"

The temperature of the room dropped rapidly.

" _No._ "

The woman flinched back and her hands left him. "I – I'm so sorry – I got carried away. I shouldn't have…"

He contemplated his options, before momentarily bowing to his brief one-time sensei. "I appreciate all that you've done for me Chota-sensei. Thank you for having me in your care."

"W-wait – you're… why do you make it sound as though you're not coming back tomorrow?"

"I am not." He said. "My goal was to learn how to prepare basic meals so as to sustain myself. I've accomplished that and beyond."

He knew how to _bake_ now. He knew the difference between _types of pepper_ , and the difference between _dicing, slicing_ and _cutting_. In a sense, he'd gotten overqualified. Regardless, no knowledge acquired was useless.

Cooking was surprisingly easy to grasp when all you did was copy and modify an expert. You removed the tiny errors and discrepancies you noticed in the expert's movements and applications, drastically dividing your margin of error and attaining a nigh-perfect result each and every time.

Essentially, if Sasuke saw you do it, he could do it _better_.

"But – but – but – I – I haven't taught you er – the – special recipes! And – and –"

He bowed again. Semi-formal, his head never reaching his waist.

"Thank you for everything, Sensei."

He proceeded to leave Yakinu Q, stepping out into the cool night breeze of Konohagakure no Sato. Approaching this restaurant had not been accidental, but rather, a perfectly generated plan formulated after deep contemplation. Akimichi Chota was the wife of Akimichi Choza, the clan head. Integrating himself into the woman's fold would mean that whatever impressions she developed of him would transfer over to her husband. Once it did, it would transfer to the rest of the clan.

His reputation would build up amongst their members easily enough. Once it reached a suitable point, he could utilize it as another tool in his arsenal against _him_.

More so, he knew that the ANBU agents were still scrutinizing him. He couldn't detect them, but there was that _feeling_ of being watched. As much as he would prefer to begin his training regiment, he could not do so without all reports of what he did being delivered to Yamanaka or the Hokage.

No, for now, his actions would vary from Yamanaka's expectations. No doubt the man believed that Sasuke would rush headlong into training upon being released from the hospital. Sasuke was not going to give him the satisfaction of being capable of predicting all his actions.

For now, he possessed a list of necessities that needed to be completed.

* * *

"You'll pay me just to watch me sew and stitch some clothes? Why?"

"My mother died before I learned how and…"

* * *

"You don't have to pay to watch me make furniture and cut wood boy. I'm just a carpenter. Why would you want to?"

"My father died before I learned how and…"

* * *

"Really? There's nothing remotely interesting about watching a man like me work the forge. What do you even gain out of it?"

"Members of my clan often crafted their own weapons. But they died before I learned how and…"

* * *

"I understand that I'm the finest calligrapher in the village. But do you truly want to part with your money just to watch me write? Why?"

"My father…"

* * *

"Y-you… want to learn about flowers and herbs? You want to _pay_ me to learn about them? Why would you want to do something like that?"

"My mother…"

* * *

"I thought you wanted to be a shinobi. Why would you want to learn about tracking and hunting animals?"

"Members of my clan…"

* * *

"Really? You want to watch me sculpt? You'll even pay? Why would you –"

"Just take the money."

* * *

 **XXX**

* * *

It had been exactly one week since Sasuke found himself discharged from the hospital. It had been the most eventful week he could recall in his life. Knowledge brimmed in his head and at his fingertips. The movements of a skilled tailor and calligrapher aided his dexterity. The hardiness and carefulness of a skilled blacksmith and carpenter aided in developing his strength. The silence, carefulness and awareness of a skilled hunter and horticulturist aided his stealth and cognizance.

Alone, they were mundane activities. Together –

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

Sasuke took a deep, calm breath as he looked at the training dummy in front of him pelted with shuriken. Each and every shuriken struck lethal points. The forehead and the chest were the major targets with more shuriken than others.

He hadn't practiced since the massacre, and even before the massacre, his aim had never been so precise.

But now?

His hands were _steady_. They possessed a subconscious amalgamation of steadiness that had sorely been lacking beforehand. Stationary targets were not even a challenge, even from thirty feet or ten meters away.

So he began learning how to throw kunai and shuriken in odd positions.

Upside down. Falling. Twisting. Turning. While dizzy.

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

 _THUNK!_

Consecutive perfect marks.

Then, he moved to the hardest test.

 _Curving shuriken around corners_.

The tree with a target outside his range of vision remained exactly as he remembered it. His mind hazed to a distant, almost foreign time, when he climbed the shoulders of someone, and watched with awe and pride and glee as that someone perfected his techniques and always unerringly failed to hit the target, despite not seeing it.

Living in his brother's shadow, for as long as he had, being considered average in respect to his intellectually and unnaturally gifted sibling –

Sasuke's gaze cooled. He felt the hot afternoon sun bathing down on him. He listened sharply for the wind, as the hunter had informed him, the wind could either be your ally or your enemy. His body remained loose, as the calligrapher had informed him. The stroke of the wrist was not done with only the wrist, but the entire body. The entire body was the brush, his target was his canvas, and his weapon was the paint.

His right hand blurred out two shuriken.

The weapons whizzed in the air, moving in seemingly different directions.

 _The wind_.

Until the wind he'd accounted for kicked in, curving the left moving shuriken until it struck the right one. The impact let out a brief spark and a clang of steel meeting steel, as one shuriken crashed into the back of the tree, and the other sailed off to strike an unsuspecting bird straight in the neck.

He moved, first, at a steady gait. Then, he broke into a light jog. Finally, he found himself sprinting, sprinting until he reached behind the tree and skid to a stop to check, and confirm –

 _Dead center._

 _Bullseye._

His lips, slowly, engaged themselves into a tiny twitch of satisfaction.

Now, to do it blindfolded.

* * *

XXXXXXX

* * *

 **Hokage's Office**

"Neko. Report."

The cat masked ANBU rose from her kneeling position, before speaking. "Uchiha Sasuke's activities in the past week since his discharge from the hospital has been mostly mundane."

Yamanaka Inoichi and Sarutobi Hiruzen looked at each other, not quite sure what to make of that information, which went against what they'd expected.

"Mundane? Mundane how?"

"He has been seen, learning how to cook from Akimichi Choza-san. Learning how to track and hunt from members of the Inuzuka Clan. Learning proper calligraphy from a member of the Sarutobi Clan. Learning blacksmithing from Konoha's Higurashi-san. Learning about herbs and flowers from your wife, Inoichi-san –"

Inoichi almost spluttered. "From my wife?"

Hiruzen gave him a look. "She did not inform you of it?"

"No, she certainly did not. Why wouldn't she tell me that she's tutoring Sasuke?"

"She _was_." Neko corrected.

"Was?" Inoichi asked.

"All of Uchiha-san's lessons with his tutors lasted exactly one day. And…" Neko hesitated. "From the reports, all he _needed_ was one day each. One day to master various skills and grasp concepts and information that would and should often take years to master."

The room was silent.

"Of course." Inoichi chuckled. "Of course he would only need one day. Copying experts – with his penchant for improving –" the man shuddered.

"Inoichi?" Hiruzen asked tentatively.

"Hokage-sama…" Inoichi said, shaking his head "Itachi inadvertently created a monster when he cast that genjutsu on Sasuke."

"I am not certain I follow, Inoichi."

"The effects of the Genjutsu caused brain damage to Uchiha-san which enables him to consciously or subconsciously activate parts of his brain connected to his Kekkai Genkai." Inoichi explained. "Essentially, Uchiha-san's brain is _always_ copying and _memorizing_ every single thing and detail he sees, it's processing that information as quickly as it copies it, and sending information to his body on how to use and _improve_ what he's recently copied."

Understanding dawned on Hiruzen's face. "You can't mean –"

"If Uchiha-san were to see an action once, _any_ action, he'd be capable of learning how to perfectly perform it, and _improve it_ to suit him. There are certain limitations, but it's only a matter of working around them."

"That is rather extraordinary." Hiruzen breathed. "I believe Uchiha-san will become quite the strong shinobi."

"Of that there is no doubt." Inoichi responded. "However, it's his mental stability and allegiance that I call into question. He's not even _ten_ yet –"

"There is no need for concern, Inoichi. As you say, the boy is not even up to ten years of age yet." Hiruzen responded. "I believe, with time, we can warm his heart and make him understand that Konoha is his family. We're here for him. If we offer him trust, he'll be more inclined to trust us in return."

Inoichi wondered if it'd truly be that simple. Still, he acquiesced to the Hokage.

"Neko, you'll continue to watch Uchiha Sasuke until the end of the month. At which point, we'll know for certain his true intentions, and see to it about letting him continue the Academy."

She saluted. "As you command, Hokage-sama."

Inoichi, on the other hand, rubbed his chin as he contemplated why exactly his wife would fail to inform him of tutoring Uchiha-san.

 _There's something off here… I just don't know what it is._

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

 _Chip._

 _Chip._

 _Chip._

 _Chip._

 _Scrape._

 _Scrape._

 _Scratch._

 _Scratch._

He was aware of the single pair of eyes on him, even as he worked away furiously at the gargantuan piece of wood with his kunai. The ANBU was still watching him. Though, their numbers had reduced significantly. It was only one person now. After being used to their presence for so long, he'd learned to be able to judge how many they were. Although, finding them was still a bit too difficult.

A month was his estimate. After a month, they would cease their reconnaissance on him, and proceed to their normal business.

It was no matter. He knew what he would be doing for the next month.

 _Chip._

 _Chip._

 _Chip._

 _Chip._

 _Scrape._

 _Scratch._

Actions often spoke louder than words, and he was going to be speaking very, very loudly.

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

She watched him work fervently.

Day, after day.

She was assigned to watch him for any suspicious or potentially suicidal or hostile activities. Whatever she expected, however, was different from what she actually bore witness to. Day in and day out, he'd come to the front of his clan gates, the large piece of wood that easily towered over seven meters tall, and he'd continuously work on it. Some days, he worked on it with a kunai. Other days, he worked on it with a sword. He used mostly weapons, his deft hands moving expertly, never tiring, never so much as stopping for even a lunch break.

From sun came up till it went down, he was there.

Chipping away at the wood. Slashing and cutting.

Two weeks had passed before the wood gained a distinctly human shape. Two, human shapes. One clearly male, and one clearly female.

A part of her felt it wasn't right. There was no way…

By the third week, the human shapes had smoothed out into nice, elegant robes.

By the fourth week, when her assignment was over, he'd completed it.

* * *

XXXXXXX

* * *

Hiruzen Sarutobi let the smoke exit from his pipe silently, even as he stared up at the wooden statues. He wasn't the only one there, of course. Oh, no, behind him, a large amount of villagers, shinobi and clansmen alike stood in awe and sheer fascination, all of them come to see what was rapidly becoming the second most brilliant carving in all of Konohagakure, second only to the Hokage Mountain itself.

It went against everything people knew about Uchiha Sasuke. He was the silent, socially awkward boy who was recently orphaned. He was a boy who was excessively polite, but seemed to have no time for frivolous things or sentimentality. There was probably not a single artistic or sensitive bone in his body, as he was, after all, the boy who'd adamantly and stubbornly refused to attend the funerals of his family members.

"Amazing!"

"It's… beautiful!"

"He… he really made this himself?"

The seven-year old Uchiha Sasuke stood proudly beside the tall, 22-feet wooden carving of Uchiha Fugaku and Uchiha Mikoto, dressed in the formal robes and regalia of their clan. The carving was the most photo-realistic thing Hiruzen had ever seen, despite being made from wood. Every single detail felt polished and refined, as though taken straight from a picture.

Uchiha Fugaku stared straight ahead, his expression placated into a firm, but still kind visage. Uchiha Mikoto had the air of a _Yamamoto_ _Nadeshiko_. The elegant court woman, her right hand holding a fan with the Uchiha Clan symbol. The _obi_ of her gown was done elegantly and her stature was the embodiment of propriety.

Hiruzen walked forward, slowly touching the carving to marvel at the smoothness and woodwork.

He looked over to Sasuke, noticing the boy's expressionless face, and Hiruzen couldn't help but smile at the boy. No doubt, no matter what had happened to him, his heart, the heart and love of a child for their parents, for their family, for their home – it was there.

Uchiha Sasuke had heart.

Clearing his throat to silence the crowd all staring and commenting at the carving, he began.

"We are here today to unveil one of Konohagakure's finest artworks, presented to us by one of our very own, in honor of his parents, Uchiha Sasuke."

The boy turned to stare at him in disbelief, clearly not expecting to take center stage. Hiruzen found it refreshing, as his eyes twinkled.

"Go on."

Sasuke walked forward, gazing straight ahead into the crowd. There was silence. Some mutterings and uncertainty. It was the first time he'd been thrust into such a public limelight. The first time the people were seeing him as more than the victim, the person handed unfortunate circumstances.

It was one of Hiruzen's worries that the people of Konohagakure would continue to see Sasuke in that manner. A victim. The _sole survivor_ of a horrible event. _The Last Uchiha_. The negative feedback would have damned Sasuke to a life of either pity or sympathy, one which would have enraged the boy and made him hate and loathe the village even more. No – the survivors of tragic events did not need pity.

Pity did not heal them.

It belittled them.

Somehow, whether or not he knew it, Sasuke had done a lot to alter his perception in the eyes of the villagers. A way to change his own public opinion. A way to be seen as more than just the one bad day that ruined his life. A way to stop being viewed and remembered only in lieu of a tragedy that befell him.

"My parents are dead."

The blunt declaration made Hiruzen wince.

"But they are not forgotten. I will not forget them. And now…"

He gestured to the giant carving.

"Neither will you."

Sheer. Silence.

No one said a word, or moved, as Uchiha Sasuke put his hands in his pockets, and walked straight into his compound, silently closing the gates behind him.


	3. There Will Be Enemies

**Genuinely mind-blown by the reception for this. I mean... I'm just experimenting around with this idea. Didn't actually expect people to _like_ it. How the fuck has no one ever written a story about Sasuke's psychological turmoil, or just him going straight up ape-shit crazy from Itachi's Tsukuyomi before?**

 **(And why the fuck are there so many Itachi-dick-sucking fics out there?!)**

 **There are over hundreds of thousands of Naruto fics for fuck's sakes. Why is it so hard to find good ones about Sasuke? (THAT ISN'T YAOI GARBAGE!)**

 **Meh. Guess I'll just keep on writing. Maybe I'll reach a point where someone stops reading my work cause I veered off the dark end, and then writes his own that'll be much better. Who fucking knows?**

* * *

 _Sasuke-kun!_

 _The scene was different. Blood dripped freely from his mother's severed neck. Her eyes blank and vacant. Maggots and worms spilled forth from her lips in a wide smile. She presented a plate, a bloody, beating organ lay on it. Her smile fixed, even as she approached him, step by step._

" _Sasuke-kun! COME AND GIVE YOUR MOTHER A HUG!"_

 _She lunged at him, spewing bugs and dribbling blood. The smell of copper and rotten meat itched at his nostrils. Her long nails stretched towards him, her neck cracking and spinning one-eighty degrees._

" _Foolish."_

 _Her body dropped into chunks. As always, her murderer stood, blade in hand, wiping away the blood from the weapon, his red spinning eyes glowing. Their gazes met._

" _Why?"_

 _The first dozen times, he yelled the question. Desperate, eager, yearning to know what sort of possible justification could be provided. The next dozen, he'd whispered it. Now, his tone lacked the slightest inflection as the answer came._

" _To test the limits of my ability."_

 _The answer never satisfied him. To test the limits… to see how far he could go. To see if he was capable of annihilating an entire clan. To have attained a level of power where he felt such was a feat was the next step in his progression._

 _The blade came down as it always had, striking him in the middle of the chest, as the prodigy gazed down upon him with red eyes like a hawk would regard a termite._

" _Foolish little brother."_

His eyes snapped open. Sweat covered his form and soaked his sheets, his body immediately springing into action, his hands blurring to reach for the kunai under his pillow.

No intruders lay in his room. There was naught but silence save for the gentle ticking of his clock. The absolute silence of a clan that ordinarily bustled with life and noise greeted him. The seven-year-old stood in that position for several seconds, the ticking of the clock his sole companion. His gaze turned towards it.

 _2:04 AM._

It had only been thirty minutes since he last woke up. His gaze turned to the ceiling, noting the numerous holes that now peppered it from when he'd leapt from the bed believing that he was under attack.

Slowly, he dropped his hands from his defensive stance. He kept the hidden kunai in their right place, calming his rapidly beating heart with two deep breaths. It did not stop the heavy feeling in his chest. Nor did it ensure that he was capable of returning to sleep. For the previous month, he had been capable of sleeping due to exhausting himself day-after-day by working on his sculpt of his parents non-stop. He reached for his blistered hands, hands that endured cutting into wood with finesse using swords and kunai. The physical exhaustion from the labor had earned him tired sleep.

Now, he possessed nothing that would be capable of replacing the exhaustion that would grant him that rest. He _longed_ for that quiet. For a dreamless night. For a night where he did not wake up tossing kunai at his shadows.

He turned his gaze back to the clock, and then back to the room. He immediately dropped to the floors, pushing himself upwards with both hands, lowering his chest, spreading his arms further, descending, and rising in that manner. In time, they would tire him out enough to return to sleep.

Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. Uchiha Sasuke remained unsure of how many push-ups he completed as light began to stream into his room and the sun rose up into the horizon. A spark of irritation dabbed at him, but was swiftly quelled. It was not the first occurrence of this sort.

He leapt to his feet, covered in a thick layer of sweat. He contemplated the desire to cook breakfast, and almost dismissed it. Almost, save for the fact that he needed the appropriate meals and vegetables in order to grow stronger and taller. Starvation and malnourishment would be detrimental to his goal.

With that in mind, the Last Uchiha departed from his room, into his kitchen, and began to make breakfast. The sizzling of a pan, the whistling of a kettle, the hiss of a gas flame became his acquaintances.

The seven-year-old ate his breakfast in quiet, bathed in quiet, and departed from his house quietly. He stalked through the abandoned streets in silence, the slowly dusty houses in silence, and the large empty compound in silence. He reached the gates, touching a paper tag on it and flaring his chakra, sending it wide open. He closed them behind him, stopped in front of his massive carving of his parents, and took a brief, formal bow to them.

The brief image of his mother's lifeless eyes staring at him flashed in his vision.

" _Sasuke-kun…"_

The only "value" of his constant dreams about her death, was that he would continue to hear her voice. Screaming his name. Screaming for mercy. Screaming as she died.

" _SASUKE-KUN!_ "

He had spent the equivalent of several years listening to his mother's screams, watching her die again and again and again.

" _Sasuke-kun_."

He did not want vengeance. No. Not truly. He just wanted… to stop _hearing her_.

"It was Itachi's fault for killing you."

" _Sasuke-kun_."

"But it is also your fault for being weak enough to be killed."

" _Sasuke….kun."_

"Good mothers are supposed to protect their children. Not the other way around."

" _Sasu –"_

"It's not my fault that I couldn't save you."

" _Sa –_ "

"It is your fault. For not saving yourself."

" _S–"_

"If you were a good mother, you'd never have let yourself die."

"…"

"You'd never have let your son be alone."

"…"

"You'd never have raised a son that could kill you."

"…"

He stood, staring at the sculpture, inhaling shortly, before shaking his head. He listened, slowly, for the familiar voice. For the sound of her whining, _grating_ voice. Nothing but the rustling of leaves against the wind struck his ears. Then, Uchiha Sasuke turned away from the carvings, expressionlessly commencing his day, in further silence.

* * *

¬ ~ XXXXX ~ ¬

* * *

"Back again Uchiha-san?"

Sasuke merely provided a casual nod to the dark-haired courier. Ever professional, he reached into his pockets, retrieving a small stack of coins, disregarding the need to count them as they were hitherto arranged before his meeting. The courier accepted the coins, not even bothering to check if the amount was correct. He provided the boy with several papers.

Sasuke rapidly collected them, his eyes rapidly rolling over their contents. Information from other major hidden villages was often coveted and classified. In a world where information was the key to conquering your rivals or demolishing your enemies, it would be beyond foolish to actually print out the truths and happenings in your village and have them on paper for public consumption.

The "Newspapers" of other hidden villages were often nothing more than highly edited pieces of falsified information and hearsays. The truths within it were sprinkled with layers upon layers of embellishment suffocating any sort of journalistic veracity. Regardless, some things could not be ignored nor could they be lost to the vestiges of falsities. Among which, the annihilation of entire clans or the dubious misdeeds of S-Rank Criminals would not be euphemized.

"Find what you're looking for?"

Uchiha Sasuke's nose crumpled. "No." He looked over the papers, caring little for the stories of the glowering praise of Jinchuriki in Kumo, or the supposed Boogeyman Sand-Demon of Kumo, nor did he care about the blatant discrimination against bloodline wielders in the papers produced by Kiri.

Dissatisfied, he rolled up the papers as always, and casually put them within his pockets.

"You know, if you could tell me what it was that you were hoping to find…" the courier trailed off.

Sasuke looked up at the young man, pursing his lips. "Testing the limits of his ability."

The courier's gave a blank look. "Pardon?"

"He said he wanted to test the limits of his ability." Sasuke continued. "But he has not done anything noteworthy since that night."

Sasuke expected to see monstrous details about him in the news. Perhaps, he would go out of his way to make himself a figure of terror in Kiri. Perhaps he'd assassinate the Kage in Kumo or Suna. Maybe spark a war or utilize his abilities to conduct genocidal cleansings of those in his path.

But there was nothing. Nothing. In the two months since the massacre, Uchiha Itachi's name seemed to have faded into absolute obscurity. A man who would kill his own parents, cousins and family merely to see if he was strong enough to accomplish the feat… why would he suddenly become a ghost afterwards? Why had he not continued on a path of blood and destruction? Why was his name not yet synonymous with the atrocities of the world?

The dissonance between words and actions left Sasuke feeling uncertain. The possibilities for his sudden departure from the limelight of the world did not bode well. Either he was planning an action so grand and disastrous that he did not have time to partake in lesser squabbles, or, potentially more terrifying, he intended to be forgotten by the world, only to reappear at an unexpected moment and reap in the magnified chaos from the terror his presence would inspire.

"Uchiha-san?"

Uchiha Sasuke turned to the courier, giving him a brief nod. He departed from their meeting spot, his mind rapidly realizing that he did not have time to waste. He needed to attain strength as quickly and as rapidly as possible in order to hunt down his brother. He would not, _could_ not, wait until his brother decided once more to return and seek out another means of _testing his ability._

Problematically, however, Uchiha Sasuke understood that he was weak. He did not know the strength he currently possessed, but the seven-year-old was not foolish enough to believe himself Chunin-level, yet alone Jonin or ANBU. He had no true measure of testing his strength, for he was yet to engage in combat against individuals of such level and gauge his ability.

The gap between himself and his target was wide, but not insurmountable. His target had graduated at age seven, become Chunin at age ten, ANBU at eleven, and made ANBU Captain at age thirteen.

To truly surpass his target, he needed to graduate at seven, make Chunin at eight, Jonin at nine, ANBU at ten, and ANBU Captain at eleven. However, his strength needed to be above and beyond what his rank indicated. He needed to be Chunin-level at Genin-rank, Jonin-level at Chunin-rank, and Kage-level at Jonin-rank. To be above and beyond his target was the only way he would be capable of defeating him.

For now, Sasuke knew not his current strength. He did not know his current strength, and he also needed to graduate the academy before his eight birthday in order to surpass his target. These were two seemingly unrelated problems, however, within the mind of the last Uchiha, they possessed a common denominator, and hence, a single solution.

Hence, Uchiha Sasuke made his decision.

* * *

¬ ~ XXXXXXX ~ ¬

* * *

 **Konoha Academy**

"H-hey – is that – is that who I think it is?"

Hushed whispers and rapid conversation broke out immediately as people spotted the familiar dark-haired boy with a fan symbol proudly portrayed on the back of his shirt walking towards the prestigious Academy for up-and-coming Genin.

"No one has seen him since he unveiled the sculpting of his parents…"

"I heard he got dozens of requests from several rich families to sculpt things, but turned them all down."

"He's coming back to the Academy? But it's only been two months since…"

"Shhh! He can hear you!"

Numerous eyes waxed over his form, and he paid them no heed. He already knew what his goal was, and he possessed the desire to accomplish it more fervently than before. Entering into the school, he noted the students who gave him a wide berth, ignored them all, and approached his classroom.

A dozen young gazes shot in his direction, silence cutting across the room as everyone realized who he was. Perhaps, in another time, another place, Uchiha Sasuke would have calmly and quietly taken a seat, avoided eye-contact, avoided talking to people as he mulled over his tragedy and became socially recluse. His silence would have been bemoaned, but eventually accepted as part of a routine, as he continued his academic schooling in the eventual preparation for his goal in life.

Unfortunately, this was not that time nor place. Uchiha Sasuke did not go quietly into the night and accept his lot and tragedy with silence. He stood at the front and center of the room, with numerous eyes gazing upon his form, and calmly uttered two words.

"The Strongest."

A boy with a pineapple-shaped hair-do rose his head from the desk, casually glancing at him. Another boy, eating from a small bag of chips, also gestured at the unusual notion. More students, either confused or uncertain, turned to stare at the Uchiha.

"Who is the strongest?"

The silence in the room was broken sharply. "Hah! It's me ttebayo! I'm going to be –"

No one in the class could understand it. One second, the resident blond troublemaker was shooting his mouth, answering the challenge, and the next, he was doubled over, Uchiha Sasuke appearing in front of him with his fist slammed into his stomach. The follow-up axe kick slammed into the back of his head, driving the blonde's face into the ground with neither hesitation nor mercy, as the sickening crack of some broken bones echoed in the classroom.

Perhaps, the most alarming thing about the entire endeavor, was the absolute _monotony_ that seemed to appear on the face of the Last Uchiha as he methodically knocked out his classmate in two solid moves.

"Anyone else?"

The room was rapidly tense. No one knew the Uchiha for random acts of violence, however, no one had seen him since his entire family and clan had died, supposedly at the hands of the boy's own brother. They could not expect him to be completely sane after such a tragedy.

"Oi – you can't –" Kiba snarled, and the Uchiha's gaze shot towards him.

There was something _primal_ … _crucial_ in the gaze of the boy. Something that sung with an uncertain anger. It was almost as if someone had insulted the sanctity of his parent's marriage, or perhaps, killed his dog in a torturous manner. The resident Inuzuka wanted to mouth off, but every hair on his body stood on edge and every primal instinct _warned him_ that it would be a horrible idea to say something foolish. Wisely, Kiba swallowed his words.

The Last Uchiha let out a 'tsk' of annoyance as he sauntered out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He moved onwards to the next class, the class directly _above_ his class, barging in with neither care nor problem, and immediately numerous eyes landed upon him, he made his declaration.

"The Strongest."

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

Eight-Year-Old Hyuuga Neji was often confident in his abilities. Despite being of the Branch Clan, and despite fate's insistence that his life be subjected to the whims and cruelties of those in the Main House, he maintained a sense of pride and self-worth in his abilities. He was superior to many in his class, already being hailed as a genius in taijutsu, and within his clan, his abilities outranked and outstripped that of the heiress of the Main House, something that brought him even further pride at besting his cousin.

Neji understood the sensation of attaining minor victories. He, like the rest of his clan, were experts at celebrating quietly the triumphs against their foes. Quietly when it mattered, but proudly when it was inconsequential. Such as, for instance, the vanquishing of the Uchiha Clan by one of the clan's very own members. Neji would be a fool to have failed to notice that numerous members of his clan were pleased with the outcome, with the realization that the Hyuuga would now increase in value as the sole Great Doujutsu users in Konoha.

The Uchiha were done for, all save for one boy, one boy, who, according to several rumors, was now a social recluse, carving giant wooden sculptures of his deceased parents and locking himself up within his empty clan walls. Neji did not bother himself with such rumors or celebration, believing that if fate had decided Uchiha Sasuke's path in life was such, then so it would be.

At least, right up until the moment the boy in question stormed into his classroom and blatantly asked for the strongest student. Of course, many others laughed dismissively at the demand, right up until the Uchiha brought his laughing seniors to their knees in well placed, powerful strikes.

One of his classmates, the talentless one who could only use Taijutsu, had seemingly been awed by the boy's attacks, and accepted his challenge. The outcome was as fate decreed, the Uchiha devastating him in the only area of a shinobi he was barely passable as.

Neji was not sure what motivated him to rise from his seat and approach the haughty Uchiha. He could not tell if it was an inherent desire to defy his fate, or perhaps, a way to acknowledge it. The Uchiha was a year his junior, and regardless of how hot-blooded he was, there was little to be gained from defeating him.

No. That was a lie. There was plenty to be gained from humbling the last Uchiha. Especially if the word were to spread.

His intention had been to end it with three rapid strikes of the gentle fist to the boy's tenketsu. However, he had not anticipated on the boy _dodging_.

Uchiha Sasuke's movements were eerily akin to a dancer, a calligrapher, or a swimmer, weaving out of the way of the palm strikes, and launching a devastating punch aimed for the Hyuuga's face. Expertly, Neji caught the blow with his left hand, the force of it sending him skidding backwards.

"Finally." He heard the Uchiha whisper. "A good measuring stick."

No opportunity was provided to respond as their battle at the front of the classroom continued. The Uchiha _blurred_ forward, stunning Neji with the unexpected litheness, as the boy attacked with a high kick aimed for the Hyuuga's face. Neji parried the blow with a palm strike, targeting three tenketsu within the boy's leg as he did so. The Uchiha hobbled backwards on one leg, his expression neutral as he glanced down at his right leg to examine the damages.

"The Jyuken is the ultimate Taijutsu style of Konoha. It was beyond foolish of you to believe you could defeat me, _kouhai_."

If anything, those words seemed to spur the Uchiha on. "Show me."

Neji acquiesced. He lunged forward, palms racing in to the air in strike after strike, jab after jab. One by one, the Uchiha dodged. His eyes locked unto Neji's form like a predatory serpent, his gaze picking out each individual move, each jab, each thrust of the palm. His eyes followed their paths and their intended targets, marking them, memorizing them, noting each and every one.

The Hyuuga grit his teeth in frustration at the inability to land a solid hit. It stung at his pride to admit it, but the Uchiha was faster. _Lither_ and _nimbler_ – almost as though he were a female contortionist. The difference in speed and agility ensured that none of his attacks would connect. The Uchiha dodged by bending low, weaving, leaning _forward_ , twisting, _twirling_ – and essentially bobbing and dipping out of the way of attacks.

He succeeded in pushing the Uchiha backward, against the benches, only for the boy to begin using them as props to evade. A palm strike aimed for the Uchiha's stomach was avoided as the boy took a hand stand on a desk. Neji continued onwards with a jab aimed for the boy's arm, only for the boy to flip off the desk, _flip_ the desk, and use it to counter, forcing the Hyuuga to slam his fingers against the metal with a sharp grimace.

Irritation began to bubble up within him. "Is dodging all that you are capable of? I did not take you for a coward Uchiha!"

A palm strike slapped against his stomach. Neji's eyes popped open from the force, he coughed, skidding backwards and pushing away several desks as students gave way in lieu of the fight. The Hyuuga's eyes widened, as he looked down, noting the area where the strike had connected, and noting the _manner_ of the strike.

"Is that all?"

In a mockery of generations of Hyuuga, in a deep insult to everything his clan stood proud of, Uchiha Sasuke stood before him, his palms extended outward, his feet forward, and his body in the _exact_ stance of the famous Hyuuga Taijutsu style – the Gentle Fist.

 _Rage_ bubbled within him. "YOU THIEVING –"

The one problem with the Gentle Fist, was when it came to fights against itself. As a Taijutsu style reliant on disabling tenketsu and swift strikes, it meant that the superior fighter was the one who was faster. The one who was faster would land the most strikes, and therefore, would take down their opponent quicker than their opponent could take them down.

Problematically, the Uchiha had already proven himself faster.

Thus, when he lunged forward with a series of palm strikes, Neji could only stare in utter disbelief as he found himself beaten at his own game. Two forceful strikes connected with his chest, one slammed against the side of his head and rattled his brain, and the final one slapped against his chin and knocked him into the air.

He crashed haplessly into several desks, landing in a dizzy, disoriented state, and barely able to regain his bearings, before a sandaled foot blurred overhead, and an axe kick slammed into his face, depriving him of his consciousness.

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

No one dared move. No one dared speak. The class of seniors remained absolutely silent at the disbelieving scene of Uchiha Sasuke standing triumphantly above the unconscious form of Hyuuga Neji. The top student in their entire class, beaten, nigh-effortlessly by someone a year their junior.

The last Uchiha did not seem tired. He did not seem satisfied. He did not even seem remotely aware or pleased by his victory. If anything, his expression seemed to twist into one of utter _disappointment_.

"This cannot be right." His voice cut across the classroom effortlessly.

"It is not that I am strong. I am not. I am not strong compared to _him_." His expression twisted into confusion. "I am not strong. So… why then, is everyone else weak?"

No one in the class understood. Rather, all they could gleam from the Uchiha's words, were that he considered everyone weaker than himself. If, someone, anyone, had known that Uchiha Sasuke considered himself weak in comparison to the likes of Uchiha Itachi, that if Sasuke had mistakenly anticipated the average academy student to possess even a _fraction_ of the skills and capabilities of a rare Uchiha-prodigy, they would have informed him that his expectations were set too high.

They would have told him that Uchiha Itachi was a once-upon-a-generation type of genius, whose name was placed amongst the ranks of individuals like Hatake Kakashi and Namikaze Minato. Individuals who were above and beyond their peers in terms of ability and combat power, and hence, to believe that most opponents he fought would be of the same level of such an individual, was, simply put, _insane._

But no one understood. No one knew, that Sasuke was attempting to surpass what was already considered unsurpassable. That beating Uchiha Itachi's record was essentially to become a literal genius-among-geniuses. That the average individual could not even _hope_ to be as talented as the prodigious Itachi, so it was impossible to comprehend being _superior_. It was like a mouse who had yet to defeat a cat, suddenly dreaming of massacring lions.

Hence, disappointed in the lack of a suitable challenge from the strongest of the class, Uchiha Sasuke turned to the rest of them, and casually spoke.

"Perhaps it will be more challenging if you all attack me at once?"

He was not being arrogant. Nor was he being conceited. No. Uchiha Sasuke merely spoke the frank truth that emerged from his brain. He did not intend to insult or demean anyone, for there was no profit to needless antagonizing of his peers, and the only one he held a grudge against was his target.

Unfortunately, he failed to realize the erstwhile implications of telling a class of your seniors that it would take all of them attacking at once in order to give you a challenge.

* * *

XXXXXX

* * *

 **Hokage's Office**

Sarutobi Hiruzen painstakingly rubbed his face as he stared down at the slightly roughed up form of Uchiha Sasuke. The boy did not even look the slightest bit bashful or ashamed of his actions, rather, he merely stared straight at him with some sort of _satisfaction?_ Hiruzen could not even begin to understand what exactly was going through the mind of the recently orphaned child. It was a mere two months since his family had died at the hands of his brother, and although Sasuke had won the hearts of numerous individuals in the village with his giant carving of his parents, there was no doubt in Hiruzen's mind that he'd lose a lot of goodwill with his latest stunt.

"Sasuke-kun. Do you know why you are here?"

"You intend to take me on as your personal apprentice."

Hiruzen actually blinked in surprise. It was rare for someone to make an utterance so completely out-of-nowhere that it caught him completely off-guard. "No, Sasuke-kun." The Third Hokage said. "I'm not making you my apprentice."

"Konoha's hunter-nin has failed yet again to capture my brother?"

The Third Hokage hesitated a bit on that. "That is not the reason why you're here."

"He has resurfaced and massacred another town?"

Hiruzen rubbed his nose, feeling his old age in his brittle bones. "Sasuke-kun – "

"There are an unknown number of variables for which I could be called to the office of the Hokage."

"You attacked an entire class of Academy Students." said Hiruzen, exasperated. "You were pulled away from the scene by Chunin Instructors, and you are covered in scrapes and bruises."

Sasuke took a long glance at himself. The boy's lips seem to turn downwards a bit in dissatisfaction. "I failed."

Hiruzen slowly reached for his pipe. "Failed?"

"I could not defeat them unscathed."

The pipe faltered between his fingers. " _That_ is what bothers you?"

Sasuke's lips thinned. "I remember seeing Itachi after he massacred my clan. There was blood on him, none of which was his." Sasuke's voice was monotone. "I cannot remember him showing a sign of exertion. Against the full might of the Uchiha… not a strand of hair moved out of place."

The words, or perhaps, the mix of sheer revulsion, awe and unspoken fear that emanated from the boy's posture gave Hiruzen pause. Monotone he may have seemed, absolutely detached he may have sounded, there was absolutely no denying the emotions encapsulated in his words.

"I struggle to defeat a class of individuals a mere year above myself." Sasuke continued. "And the gap only grows larger. Every day, he faces stronger opponents and masters better techniques. His skills become sharper, his blade more honed. And I am to catch up to him. _How_?"

"What are you –"

There was nothing perhaps sadder, or perhaps more worrying than the sight of an Uchiha on their knees. But Sasuke had gone above and beyond that, his forehead kissed the floor as he bowed, completely, utterly, in front of the Hokage.

"Please. Tell me. _How can I kill my brother?_ "

Hiruzen swallowed, feeling the dryness of his lips and parchedness of his mouth. His cigar felt ashen and bland. The color of the room felt almost as dull and as lifeless as the seven-year old boy begging him for answers. "Sasuke-kun… please, stand."

"Teach me to become strong. Under your tutelage, I –"

"I cannot train you Sasuke."

"I will provide with you the full wealth of the Uchiha Clan. The Library, the heirlooms."

"Sasuke-kun. Stop."

"Everything that I have inherited. If I –"

" _Uchiha_ _Sasuke_."

The voice of the God of Shinobi, of the man known as the Professor, cut across the room, it's presence and weight enough to cow and intimidate and make flee normal men. Uchiha Sasuke rose his head from the wooden floors, his eyes widened at the pressure, the force, the _power_ that reverberated command.

Hiruzen felt none of the power he exuded. No, he felt like a brittle old man in a house made of glass. His bones were chalk being washed away at the shores of a raging ocean. His breaths were slow, wispy reminders of the Shinigami's eventual arrival. He glanced down at the boy looking up to him for answers, and his years upon years of experience felt ill-equipped to provide him with any.

"I cannot teach you Sasuke-kun."

Ever expressionless, the Uchiha could but utter a simple word. "Why?"

There were numerous answers he could have provided. That perhaps, he was occupied with his duties as Hokage, with his job running the village. That he was old, and past his prime to take on any more apprentices. Or perhaps, the real reason, that he felt he was a poor teacher, as his students still stood today as his greatest regrets, particularly one orphaned, black-haired student.

One orphaned black-haired student, which Uchiha Sasuke deeply, painfully reminded him of.

Moreover was the excruciating truth. The truth behind that night. Behind the actions of Itachi. A truth that Uchiha Sasuke could never know, could never find out, lest, this zeal and frantic desire to kill his brother morph, dreadfully, into hate and spite for the village.

None of the reasons he provided would have satisfied the boy. No matter how well thought out, how seemingly earnest and sincere. They would be like stray strands of fire, charging headfirst into a burning forest.

"I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun."

The Uchiha collected himself. Properly, standing to his feet, the seven-year-old boy picked up the broken pieces of his dignity and pride. It was worse, Hiruzen realized, that this was perhaps the boy's first ever attempt to reach out and seek help from someone. From anyone. To be rebuffed so harshly…

Perhaps he should assign a tutor to the boy? A personal teacher, one that would at the very least, mollify his current desires. However, he could not in good conscience fan the flames of Uchiha Sasuke's quest for retribution. He shuddered to think, what would happen if the boy did complete his goal. Where would those flames, burning fervently for justice and vengeance turn?

"Will you at the very least promote me to the rank of Genin?"

Hiruzen grimaced.

"Combat-wise I have proven myself to be superior to my peers. Remaining as an Academy Student will be detrimental to my growth. If I were a Genin, I would be able to access better resources and challenges suitable to further my growth."

"I'm afraid I can't do that either Sasuke-kun."

"Is there a reason this time, or another ambiguous apology?"

Hiruzen sighed, taking a long, tired drag from his pipe. "Becoming a Genin entails more than just physical strength. You need knowledge as well. Mastery of the basics, of the three academy jutsu, knowledge of terrain, of basic chakra theory, geography, topography, basic tactics, of the rope-escape techniques, camping and survival essentials, the ability to discern deception or partake in it should the need arise, and of course, more than anything else," He exhaled, a smoky plume emitting from his lips. "You need to be capable of teamwork."

"Where am I supposed to attain knowledge of all that?"

"The Academy."

Sasuke fidgeted. "And how long would it take, at the academy, for all that knowledge to be properly disseminated?"

Hiruzen slowly placed his pipe on his table. "The standard syllabus runs for about five-to-six years –"

"And you would have me remain as an _academy student_ at the same age he was _ANBU Captain_."

"Itachi grew up during the Third Shinobi World War. We _allowed_ people younger graduation ages because more talented shinobi were needed on the battlefield. It was a _necessity_." Hiruzen stressed. "Thankfully, we are _not_ in the throes of war and we do not need to have people graduate quite as early. This is not the Warring Clans Era where children who have barely begun to walk are sent out as assassins and spies."

He noticed that the boy was fidgeting even further. His hands, twitching restlessly. "So even if I were to finish the entire syllabus before the next year, you would not allow me to graduate." The silence was uneasy. The seven-year-old boy seemed to have twitching, agitated fingers.

"If it was decidedly unanimous by all your teachers that your skills were truly above and beyond that of your peers, I would _consider_ it… however, nothing is certain."

"I see."

Sasuke's fingers continued to twitch. It was almost erratic, tapping, and jerking and convulsing seemingly on their own will and accord, whilst the boy's visage appeared unerringly unchanged. It was a disturbing tell to his clearly troubled state of mind.

"Sasuke-kun, I understand that your goal is to end your brother's life. However, there is much to living than just a quest for vengeance. If you forsake everything in this world to pursue that goal… then in a way, that night…" Hiruzen took a deep breath. "You died as well."

"So I should merely pretend my brother did not run his blade through my mother's chest and live my life as I please?"

Hiruzen grimaced. "That is not what I'm –"

"Is there anything else you wanted to discuss with me, _Hokage-sama?_ "

Slowly, painstakingly, realizing that no words he uttered would make its way through to the boy, Hiruzen allowed himself to nod. He watched the boy with the twitching fingers and blank face vacate his office, an uncomfortable feeling slowly settling within the depths of his stomach.

"Neko." He called to his guard, watching her appear in a swirl of leaves. He didn't need to instruct her, for she already knew her instructions, nodding, sharply, and vanishing into the wind.

* * *

XXXXXXXX

* * *

His chest was burning.

Why?

He was uncertain. He began running as soon as he left the Hokage's office. The sensation within his lung felt as though he'd wrongly performed a fire ninjutsu. It reminded him of his earlier attempts to master the _Katon: Goukakyu_ in order to earn his father's praise. Of the feeling of hot, smoldering pain desperately needing escape, coiling and constricting through his windpipe.

Except, he had not attempted, nor failed to perform any jutsu. No, the burning sensation in his chest grew and grew and swelled into a lump in his throat that would not go down no matter how desperately he swallowed the saliva swirling in his mouth. He ran, ignoring pedestrians and people, pushing aside all in his path as he kept moving, with neither destination nor purpose.

Eventually, he realized he was being followed. He'd long since attuned his senses to note when he was being observed by the ANBU, and as it was the same ANBU, the same person who did not believe or see a need to change their methods of tracking him, he could always tell when _she_ was observing him.

Knowing that he was being watched did not stop his chest from burning. Rather, it made it burn even hotter. It felt now, as though smoldering coals had been meticulously placed on his ribcage.

He came to a stop at what seemed to be a training ground. Kunai littered the ground, scorch marks and upturned dirt visible as far as the eye could see. Recently used, but currently abandoned. His gaze landed upon a training dummy, unblemished, unbent, unbroken.

He rushed at it. His jittering, shaky fingers slammed into the object, the recoil and sensation of wood rattling his bones felt almost euphoric. Again, he slammed his fist, and he realized, the burning in his chest reduced. A little. Very, very little.

So he continued. Right fist. Left fist. Right fist. Left fist. Smashing and smashing, and smashing and smashing, and smashing and smashing and smashing. His bones song, the fire in his chest ebbed, a forgotten, almost guttural sound bellowed from his throat as blood poured leaked escaped knuckles and painted his target an unearthly red.

He envisioned his target as something else. Someone else. A man with a pipe and a grandfatherly visage who did not understand. Who _could_ not understand. A man who did not go back to an empty house and listen to the voice of a dead woman. A man who did not wake up in utter silence and dream of the one responsible. A man who sat comfortably, believing himself to be some wise noble sage, condemning the choices of another person because he believed he was doing what was _best_.

Best for himself, perhaps.

But not best for Sasuke.

Even now, he was being watched. Scrutinized. Observed. A white rodent in a glass box, being prodded and pushed around to study the results. Konoha was no more his home as it was his prison. The Hokage was no more his leader as he was his jailer. They could not help him defeat Itachi. They did not _care_ about helping him defeat Itachi. Whilst Itachi massacred his Clan, the people of Konoha slept peacefully.

Did none of them hear any screams or cries for mercy?

The single thought stopped him. His bloodied fist stuck against the caricature of what was once a training dummy. Cold washed over him as though he'd been splashed with ice water.

Did no one, not one person in the village, see the smoke? Smell the blood? Hear the screams and pleas?

Or did they… did they hear it all… and did they _ignore_ it?

He forced aside those thoughts, dropping flat on his back. His gaze turned to the darkened sky, the moon hanging overhead, realizing that hours upon hours had passed and he knew not how long he had been there, striking away at the wooden object.

His eyes slowly closed, his body feeling lethargic as a cold, unwelcome realization struck him. Konoha… Konoha was not his home. They were not his people. The Uchiha Clan was his home. The Uchiha were his people… And they were gone.

The one responsible still walked the earth, and if the Hokage, if Konoha would not give to him what he needed to correct that –

Then he would take from Konoha what he needed by force.

As long as he could kill him. As long as Itachi lay dead at his feet. No cost was too high. No actions too filthy. Pride and shame and material possessions? Inconsequential. Loyalty, bonds and shackles of duty? Disregarded.

It was not justice which drove him. It was not vengeance which spurned him. It was _necessity_.

Uchiha Itachi needed to die.

Uchiha Itachi needed to die, so Uchiha Sasuke could begin to live.


	4. The First Victim

**Been a while since I've worked on this. Then again, I did say this story wouldn't take too much precedence over my others. An experiment is what this is, and what it has always been, with hopes that more writers will see this story and think "Hey, that's true that Sasuke didn't go crazy! Let me write a story about what would have happened if he did!"**

 **Considering that's my end-goal for this fic, it gives me a lot more liberty to experiment with certain ideas because ultimately, that's what his is - a live experiment.**

 **Fair warning, this fic will be somewhat less wish-fulfilling than my others, because that's not the endgoal here. I mean, of course there'll still be wish fulfillment - just... done differently.**

 **This chapter will certainly make one or two people rather uncomfortable. That said... enjoy.**

* * *

 **The Sociopathy of Uchiha Sasuke**

* * *

"Just five more minutes –"

"Come on Kino. I need to lock up the place."

She grumbled underneath her breath as she stared at the stack of papers before her. Ink stains frolicked on her fingertips like a mosaic design. Her untidy hair possessed three pens stuck into it, all of which already possessed their contents emptied out.

"Just – the library is the only place I can get any work done!"

"Your house –"

"I live in the _Red Lights District_."

"Ah." Jian said. "You could always move out. Rent a better place."

"On what? The salary of a Chunin desk-pusher isn't going to cover the cost of getting and renovating a new place."

"You could always take more missions."

She clicked her pen. Clicked it, again and again. Her lower lip folded underneath her teeth.

"It's been three years –"

"No."

Jian let the issue drop. She watched the Chunin sigh, grumble, and then yawn. "I'm heading home Kino." He tossed the keys to her. "Once you're done with whatever it is you're writing, lock the place up."

"You're _leaving?_ But – but – who will protect the library –"

"From _what?_ Enemy shinobi? Like they would actually try to steal jutsu from a shinobi library. No Genin or Chunin would be stupid enough to try either. It's the _library_."

"But –"

"Goodnight Kino."

She heard him leave. The doors slammed behind him. She was torn between being disconcerted at the complete silence and appreciating the chance to get some more work done. She flinched at the movement of shadows, and leapt to her feet at the tiniest of sounds. Several minutes passed in this manner of ease and unease until she gathered her wits and returned to her work.

… _and so, in this manner, Konoha has only just begun to rebound from the debilitating losses incurred from the tragedy of the Uchiha Clan Massacre, which occurred twelve months earlier._

 _The greatest threat to Konoha's economy was the loss of the labor and personnel in the form of the Uchiha Clan. The loss of over a thousand shinobi brought questions about Konoha's ability to defend itself from internal threats, and reduced public opinion of the village, thereby reducing the number of investors, tourists and clientele requesting missions. However, this reduction was not crippling to the economy, but instead proved to be unexpectedly beneficial. As Konoha was now over a thousand shinobi short, the reduction in missions enabled the village to be capable of meeting the demand of clientele without being excessively overworked._

 _Nevertheless, the reduction was temporary, and the influx of mission requests brought Konoha to a crises as more and more shinobi became overworked, barely completing a C-Rank Mission before having another B-Rank handed to them. This led to an increase in the amount of alcohol, tobacco and pornography consumption as shinobi searched for quick ways to unwind from the stress of the seemingly endless stream of missions._

 _Furthermore, crime rates in Konoha skyrocketed following the Massacre. As the Uchiha Police Force were the primary source of law-enforcement within the village, numerous thugs and brigands saw their destruction as an opportunity to commit different felonies without the threat of arrest and imprisonment. There were several reports of burglaries, robberies, extortion and violent assaults. There were twenty-one cases of sexual harassment, and three cases of sexual assault, which, as of now, have been brought to justice courtesy of beheadings delivered by the Head of T &I, Morino Ibiki._

 _The Hokage proceeded to deliver a statement indicating that lawbreakers would be treated severely and urged all of Konoha to maintain the Will of Fire in trying times. Following that, the presentation of the now named: Uchiha Remembrance Monument crafted by the sole survivor of the Massacre aided in quelling and rekindling the fires of compassion in the heart of the people. The Uchiha Remembrance Monument has been visited numerous times by tourists, some of which claim to weep at the sight and upon hearing the story of the Massacre, and the solitary boy locked within the walls of his compound._

Kino stopped writing. She inhaled, deeply. She turned her attention to the clock, noting the time. Her lips turned into a frown as she stared back at her report. With a bit of trepidation, she continued.

 _This researcher questions the ethics of utilizing the tragedy of the Uchiha Massacre and Uchiha Sasuke as a profitable avenue for tourism. The sole survivor of the Uchiha Clan purportedly attacked and defeated his colleagues and seniors at the Konoha Shinobi Academy, and requested to be promoted to the rank of Genin, but was firmly rebutted, ten months ago. He has proceeded to lock himself up within the walls of his compound, and is only seen once a month in the village, buying groceries and amenities. Tourists and even the populace of Konoha have taken to treating the orphaned child as some form of mythical celebrity. This researcher believes that it is morally bankrupt to continue to allow –_

Kino tore up the paper. She ripped it twice and folded it into a neat ball, taking time to toss it into the nearest bin. She was letting her personal sentiments cloud her writing. Perhaps it was because Uchiha Kashimi had been her teammate. She wondered if it was a good thing that Kashimi died three years before the massacre. No – no it was not. Uchiha Itachi would have merely killed her without hesitation, not drag her out in front of a town and –

She slapped her cheeks lightly. _Forget it. It's in the past_. Yes, it was in the past. It was why she could not, would not, ever return to active duty, unless in the explicit case of an attack against the village. Now was not the time to be thinking of such. It was almost two a.m. and she needed to lock up the library. _Just need to wrap this up –_ she turned back to her paper, scratching her hand through her hair as she began writing.

 _Tomorrow, it will be exactly one-year since the Uchiha Clan Massacre. Konoha has suffered great tragedy and loss, friends, lovers, colleagues and more were removed from this world by the now infamous S-Rank Missing Nin, Uchiha Itachi. There have been no records or details of where this abhorrent criminal vanished to, but the lives of those of Konoha have begun to begrudgingly move on. Changes in structure, such as the newly found Konoha Police Force operated by individuals of the Inuzuka and Akimichi Clans, prove that the people of Konoha are indeed resilient, strong, and will live on and carry the memory of the fallen with us._

 _ **The Aftermath of the Uchiha Downfall,**_ _as recorded by –_

There was a loud _bang_ and Kino leapt from her chair.

Her hands went straight to her kunai pouch, and the weapon was held before her in a protective stance.

"Who's there?"

No one responded. Cautiously, she took several silent steps forward. Her eyes flickered back and forth to attempt to find the source of the noise. She hoped it was just an over-eager Genin here for some light reading and nothing particularly ominous.

A black shape blurred between bookshelves, and she felt her breath go still.

"Whoever you are, you're currently trespassing!"

She had not seen combat in three full years. She trained, lightly, to ensure her shape did not falter, but she was never the best of Chunin even while she was at her prime. Three years lacking combat had deteriorated her skills to that of High Genin-level at the very _best_.

Hence, when she witnessed the tall figure cloaked in black robes, standing across from her like a ghastly apparition, she knew that she was in trouble.

The world around them _melted_ – literally _melted_ , as books and corridors and bookshelves dripped away from reality like ink washing off wet paper. Her confusion gave way into terror and rapidly turned into understanding as she slammed her hands together into the seal for Genjutsu release, and screamed out the word. "KAI!"

The world did not stop melting. No, the world only seemed to melt at a faster pace, the library washing away and a forest clearing immediately coming into existence.

"KAI!"

The forest did not melt away. Her heart was beating quickly within her chest now. A voice told her that _this forest was real_ , but she did not want to accept that. The implications of accepting it were horrifying.

"KAI!"

Again, the forest did not fade. The smell of leaves and night breeze was unmistakable. The feeling of sand and dried leaves crunching underneath her sandals were unmistakable. She realized that it was, indeed, _real_. It meant this was the worst case scenario.

It meant she had been under a Genjutsu for an inordinate amount of time, and was brought to this forest without ever realizing it.

The cloaked figure stood in front of her, eerily unmoving. She swallowed the saliva in her throat and did her best to appear unfazed. Her façade was brief. It failed as the figure before her vanished into falling leaves, and a _kick_ connected strongly with her stomach. She felt the wind hurry out of her lungs as she keeled over, a second kick striking the side of her cheek. The world revolved endlessly as she crashed against grass and tried her best to breathe. The cloaked figure stood, his left leg still extended, before he slowly placed it down.

" **Fight.** "

The distorted voice spoke. She could not place age or gender, and she could not see past the obscured cloak. She registered the words and contemplated laughing. _Fight?_ She could _not_ fight. Fighting a Genjutsu expert at night was suicide, and her Clan Jutsu was not optimized for one-on-one melee brawls. There was no way she could –

A second kick connected with her ribs and reestablished her priorities. Her attacker did not seem to care about her breasts as he slammed his foot into her chest in the manner that a child would kick a ball. She skidded away from him, breathing hard as she did her best to rise to her feet and raise her kunai in defense.

He was in front of her again. She rushed him with her taijutsu, and he slapped away her palms like they were offending pieces of string and connected a palm strike between her chest. Another palm strike crashed on her stomach before she could react to the first, and she toppled like a child pushed over by a neglectful adult.

 _I'm outclassed._ The horrifying realization came to her as she collapsed to the ground, and her attacker pinned her down with his foot against her chest.

" **Weak.** "

Kino could not deny it. She knew it. She knew, and she accepted it a long time ago. A one-on-one fight was not her specialty, however, if she could trap her opponent –

She locked her legs against her attacker's knees. _Solid! It's not a genjutsu!_ She rushed her hands to move into a handsign that she had been practicing since she was old enough to walk.

" _Shintenshin no Jutsu!_ " Yamanaka Kino roared as she felt her soul eject her body and rush straight towards her attacker. It slammed directly against his consciousness, and –

And the sight of thousands of decomposing severed heads crying blood and swallowing maggots told Kino she made a horrible mistake.

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

How many hours did the average Shinobi train?

Eliminating the hours needed for missions, feeding, rest, relaxation and personal hobbies one would estimate roughly about three-to-four hours a day, every day. Some, the particularly dedicated ones, would train six to seven hours a day, every day. The fanatics would train perhaps eight-to-nine hours a day, every single day.

However, even these 'fanatics' were limited because they needed to interact with people. They required a social life, possessed family, duties, obligations and responsibilities that made it so they could not train more than nine hours a day.

He had no such restrictions, and hence, he clocked in _twenty hours_ a day _,_ every _single_ day.

How hard was their training regimen?

Most shinobi did not train themselves until they collapsed from exertion, woke up, cooked a brief meal and ate it before returning to train, and collapsing from exertion again. Indeed, most shinobi trained on things they were _already_ good at, focused on retaining a level of skill they had attained, and their training was set at a steady, repetitive pace. They were training to be strong, yes, but not everyone trained to be the _strongest_. They were training for missions, yes, but not everyone trained with a _particular_ mission in mind. At the end, with the exception of one or two individuals, no one trained like their life depended on it.

He did _._

Finally, how _effective_ was their training?

The average shinobi could move from the rank of Genin to the rank of Chunin in about three to four years, if they maintained a steady training pattern and garnered experience from combat and missions. The average amount of time it took for one to move from Genin to Jonin was about seven to eight years. If you survived for that long, you were doing the right thing, you had not gotten yourself killed yet, so that meant that you had gained the skills and expertise needed to keep yourself alive, and potentially, others as well.

Individuals labeled "geniuses" were also faster at moving up in rank, and their training sessions were doubly effective because of their ability to understand the subject, draw rational and helpful connections, see the bigger picture, and grasp concepts at a rate that left their peers in the dust.

Yet, again, most individuals labeled "geniuses" often did not see the need to train as hard as the average shinobi, yet alone harder _._ They did not train constantly with an attainable mission in mind, and they most certainly did not train like their life depended on it.

Training one's hardest, every single day, stopping only to cook and eat for an hour and sleep for three, before awakening and returning straight back to the training was a feat that would have turned a mediocre shinobi into an exceptional one and an exceptional shinobi into a genius.

It was only given that it would transform a genius into something utterly terrifying.

"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

He watched the Yamanaka woman screaming, as she tumbled and ran and tumbled again in circles. A massive pile of bleeding, decomposing heads chased after her as she fled. They grabbed and bit at her ankles. Some managed to latch onto her shoulder. She screamed further as she pushed them off and continued to run, around and around, unaware that the landscape was a perfectly spherical.

He ignored her screams as he tested the illusion for flaws in its making. Cracks, errors, little things that would make it overwhelmingly obvious that it was an illusion. It was his first time testing this against a human being, and months of theories and conjecture could only ever be validated by actual experiments.

The landscape was the familiar terrain of the Uchiha Clan compound, a place he knew better than the back of his hand. He watched the woman burst through one of the doors, slamming herself in, and locking it, breathing harder and harder as she muttered incoherent words under her breath.

"This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real. It – it isn't real. _No one's mind can be this fucked up_. It isn't real. I – I must be under a Genjutsu. This – this is a Genjutsu."

She took a deep, heavy breath, and slammed her hands together. "KAI!"

The severed heads banged furiously against the door. "KAI!"

Maggots trickled into the room, crawling up her legs at speed they should not have possessed. "KAI!"

One of the heads burst through the door. Blood poured freely from its eyes as it spun slowly in the air, and the decomposed head smiled. Worms dripped from its teeth, and a new stream of maggots rushed at her.

She screamed.

Watching from his position on the moon, he scribbled slowly into a notepad. _Chunin-Level opponent has failed to identify the Genjutsu for twenty-seven seconds. Immobilized by fear._

The **Magen: Narakumi no Jutsu,** or as it was commonly known, _Demonic Illusion: Hell Viewing Technique_ , was a D-Rank supplementary Genjutsu that he found amongst the belongings of one of his deceased clan members called Uchiha Kashimi.

She was one of the members deceased _before_ the massacre, who died after she surrendered herself to stop four A-Rank missing-nin from massacring a village they held hostage. The missing-nin in question proceeded to assault her in front of the village and her teammates. One teammate attacked in fury and got killed, and the other one sat back in fear and watched as the missing nin violated one comrade, killed another, and proceeded to massacre the village regardless.

A fortunate happenstance for him. Happenstance that her teammate happened to be a Yamanaka, additionally, one that was not in active duty, and one that moved away from her clan compound. Hence, a suitable test subject.

The **Magen: Narakumi no Jutsu** was a technique that Yamanaka Kino's teammate _,_ Uchiha Kashimi often used. He had anticipated the woman to realize what it was and break free with little difficulty. Or was it simply that she did not realize that the Genjutsu was altered _?_

"PLEASE! AHH! AHHHHHHH!"

Judging by how she seemed to be crying as the maggots filled her mouth, she clearly was yet to realize the trick. _Is this all a Chunin is capable of?_ Or perhaps she was this disgraceful because she was a kunoichi?

If it were a _shinobi_ placed in this position, they would realize that tears were a waste of time and attempt to find the most accurate way to save their lives. Or at the very least, if they did begin to cry, it would be a pitiable sight. He scribbled some words into his paper. _Are kunoichi inherently subpar to shinobi?_

If the answer was yes, he would avoid contracting any kunoichi in tasks relating to assassinating his brother. He watched further, for an additional thirty seconds, as the woman failed to identify the illusion, and his lips pressed firmly against each other.

 _Chunin-level opponent has failed to realize the true nature of the defensive Genjutsu for sixty-one seconds._

Most utilizations of Genjutsu were _external_. Genjutsu was perceived as a ninja art for offensive purposes, to catch or ensnare an opponent, to demoralize or terrorize. Hardly anyone utilized genjutsu for defense, where its applications were far more suitable.

After spending years witnessing his clan's death over and over, he learned it was a grave error. His target was a master of Genjutsu. It was common sense to prepare defensive mechanisms against your enemy's greatest strength.

The woman seemed to stop crying and sniveling, and burst free from the maggots and heads, before running towards, and _through_ several houses. She reached what she believed was the mental representation of the exit: a pair of giant black gates. She began pulling at it, roaring and screaming in effort and frustration.

 _Chunin-level opponent consistently fails to unravel true nature of the technique._

This world, everything in it, even the gates that she assumed was the path to escape – all of it was false. It was the work of the **Magen: Narakumi** , a basic D-Rank genjutsu he casted onhisownmind _._ Requiring two handseals, the Snake seal and the Rat seal, it was something that anyone with decent control of chakra could learn. The technique subjected people drawn into it to visions of their greatest fear, or the things they least want to see.

Casting it on himself for the first time provided the image of Itachi standing over his corpse. There was no emotional connection to it. He was not frightful of the image, rather, he understood that it was a feasible possibility if he did not prepare dutifully before facing his target.

From there, he began to _mold_ the genjutsu. Molding it until he could alter it. He was both the caster and the victim, the user and the used, and hence, it was easy to shape it into something, _anything_ that he desired, all within his mind.

Further experimentation and abuse of the D-Rank Supplementary Genjutsu brought him to the realization that he now possessed access to something called a mindscape, where he could infinitely run the jutsu in the background with little to no extra cost of chakra.

This was the fifth line of defense against Itachi's genjutsu prowess.

The fourth line of defense was an illusion, still using the **Magen: Narakumi** as a base, cast on himself that prevented him from looking into the eyes of anyone with a Sharingan. It triggered when he saw the glimpse of a Sharingan eye, and would make it so he averted his gaze _._ As long as he lived, he did not want to be subjected to Itachi's time-altering genjutsu again, and he would go to any length to prevent that.

The third line of defense was a genjutsu that made anyone who possessed a Sharingan eye appear to be wearing pink spiral-shaped sunglasses.

The second line of defense were a pair of goggles that utilized the same material as one-way mirrors, enabling him to see through them, but preventing the opposing party from doing the same.

The first line of defense was the use of the **Henge** , or _Transformation_ technique that would appear to make him faceless, hence, preventing any measure of eye-contact from ever being established without physical contact first being made.

Thus, if Uchiha Itachi desired to cast a genjutsu on Uchiha Sasuke, he would have to make physical contact and break Sasuke's _Transformation_ , then he would need to remove Sasuke's one-way goggles, and finally, be required to break through three layers of genjutsu that Sasuke had already placed upon himself.

He theorized that his genjutsu-defense could also be used against individuals of the Yamanaka Clan, because they would not expect people to cast Genjutsu on themselves as protection against foreign mental disturbances _._

His theories were being proven right.

Knowing it was an illusion did not mean she could dispel it. For starters, it was not a Genjutsu cast on her, so she could not merely flare her chakra to remove the intrusion providing the mental illusions to her brain. It was a genjutsu cast on himself, and the only way she could break it, were if she were to physically insert her chakra through his body. A feat which was impossible as the greatest weakness of the Yamanaka Clan's body-possession was the forfeiture of the ability to move and guarantee the safety of their own physical form.

"P-please! Let me out! Get – get off me! Get off me! GET! GET OFF! GETOFFGETOFF!"

The woman was engulfed entirely by the illusion. The wriggling worms and bleeding heads buried her in a large, ever-growing pile, and Sasuke took note of the amount of time it took to have accomplished the feat.

 _Chunin-Level opponent has been underneath the genjutsu for eighty-nine seconds._ He reached out to a mental notepad. Imaginary, as was everything else in this world, and began to write.

 _Test against Chunin-level opponent successful. Chunin-level opponent successfully immobilized for over one minute-thirty three seconds. Estimated probability of success against ANBU-Level opponents: medium. Hypothesized time for ANBU-level opponents to break free: twenty seconds. Estimated probability of success against Jonin-level opponents: Medium-Low. Hypothesized time for Jonin-level opponents to break free: ten seconds. Estimated probability of success against Kage-Level opponents: Low. Hypothesized time for Kage-Level opponents to break free: three seconds._

 _Note: Genjutsu requires increase in rapidity and verisimilitude. Terrorizing images would fail against capable shinobi*._

 _*=Terrorizing images may be more effective on kunoichi. (Insufficient Data to support hypothesis)_

 _Possible upgrade: Need to craft an illusion that appears to not be an illusion. Potential sources: memories, events, locations._

The Last Uchiha stopped writing as a thought occurred to him. _Addendum: Genjutsu can be utilized to display false memories. Potential opportunity to confuse Itachi with memories that do not exist. Potential of success: unknown._

 _Requires further experimentation._

Sasuke returned focus of his consciousness to the real world. The woman's body lay prone and unmoving on the floor: the greatest weakness of the Yamanaka Clan's signature jutsu.

 _Inefficient._

Indeed, there were numerous ways to overcome this weakness. His mind worked through dozens of them at a time, sifting through potential solutions one after the other, as his body mimicked the exact handsign he witnessed earlier, and his chakra proceeded to follow the pattern.

" **Shintenshin no Jutsu.** "

There was work to be done.

* * *

 **XXXXXX**

* * *

 **Konoha**

 **Red Lights District**

One misconception many individuals possessed regarding the Last Uchiha was that he desired vengeance for his clan. The misconception, it seemed, existed even within the mind of the Yamanaka woman. A misconception that Uchiha Sasuke personally desired to stake a kunai into the heart of Uchiha Itachi.

That was not correct. He wanted Uchiha Itachi dead, that was true. He did not _care_ how it was done. Whether it was by poison slipped into his wine as he relaxed, or a needle driven into his neck by a courtesan he visited for stress relief, Sasuke would be pleased regardless. He did not need to be the one to deal the finishing blow. Even if it were a random shinobi, who managed to win via pure skill or luck, Sasuke would be _pleased_.

The goal was not to 'beat' Itachi, the goal was to 'kill' Itachi.

The only reason Uchiha Sasuke bothered to increase his skill as a shinobi was because he knew how exceedingly unlikely it was for his target to be eliminated via other methods. The most _likely_ way he would kill Itachi, would be in personal combat.

The first problem he possessed with that, however, was _finding_ Itachi.

Information on the Uchiha Killer was scarce and nearly non-existent. The complete and total erasure of his presence from the face of the earth did _not_ sit at all well with the Last Uchiha. The Hokage had proven himself useless in that regard, and Konoha in its entirety, had proven itself useless in that regard.

 _Worse than useless._

Replicating her body-language and walk was a task which came natural due to his time spent gathering intel. His experiences from the _hunter_ proved invaluable, and transferred over to his work as a shinobi. Thus, his performance held steady as he navigated the seedier part of Konoha's underbelly.

Shinobi were predominant in the area, visibly lounging outside of bars and brothels, conversing within and amongst themselves in inebriated stupor. They drank heartily. Chatted amicably. The incident of the past, the night of bloodshed and woe, all but forgotten in their minds.

 _Forgotten._

A year. A full year had passed since his family was killed. Konoha stumbled momentarily, mourned fleetingly. Their lives returned to normal sooner than his parent's bodies could rot. The flowers on gravestones grew scarce as the weeks passed, until he saw them no longer.

Tomorrow was the anniversary.

Tomorrow, they would _remember_ , and then they would return to drop flowers and mourn once more.

 _They would remember_.

While the rest of Konoha would remember, he never _forgot._ He never forgot the sounds of a clan filled to the brim with people. The scent of mothers preparing dinner. The cheers and rackets of toddlers running around, making fake handseals and shouting names of jutsu.

The kind aunt running her tiny pocky store, waving at him as he came back from school. The old grizzled war vet with a scar over his eye, who'd always tell him to chin up and stand straight as Fugaku's son. His four-year old granddaughter, who could melt the man into incoherence when she asked him to taste her baked goodies.

The pregnant women gossiping, newlyweds chattering, and first-time parents bemoaning –

The babies crying, toddlers and infants nattering, and old women humming the songs of a new generation –

All that the Uchiha Clan Compound possessed today, was silence.

Silence and dust.

Thus, unlike the rest of Konoha, he had not forgotten.

He _could_ _not_ forget.

"H-hey, Ya-Yamanaka?"

He almost hesitated. Remembering his form, his experience, and drawing from the Yamanaka-woman's memories enabled him to accentuate pitch, body-language, and tone. The man approaching him was a Chunin. She did not have any knowledge or dealings with this Chunin.

 _Not acquainted._

"Yes?" in the woman's body, he turned. He furrowed 'her' nostrils and engaged a body-language that visibility said 'wary' and 'cautious.' "Do I… know you?"

The Chunin cleared his throat. "Um, no – we uh – well, we used to be in the Academy together. It's Iwana. Akame Iwana."

Akame gestured his hand. 'She' did not take it. The man's face melted into a grimace.

"Is there a problem, Iwana-san?"

"W-w-well, no, but um… I usually see you around, and… I was wondering if you... if you'd be willing to join me for a drink, some time, maybe?"

'She' gave Akame a quick-onceover. _Dilated eyes_. _Irregular breathing. Flushed face._ He looked over the Chunin and made his theory. _Inebriated. Physically attracted to the Yamanaka-woman._

"Would you happen to know of any… _useful_ , jutsu?"

Akame blinked, staring oddly at the change of conversation. "Um… well, I don't really take that many active missions and –"

'She' made a look of _heavy_ disappointment. "I see."

Akame's face turned a higher shade of red. "But – but!" he cleared his throat, _eager_ to regain his social footing. "Um – I know, one, amazing A-Ranked Jutsu!"

'She' kept her expression amused. "Oh?"

"That's right," Akame bashed on his chest. "I learned it from my good friend, Ebisu!" He crossed his arm. "It's a Jonin-level technique, and he said it even has a super-powered version said to be in the Forbidden Scroll."

'She' licked her lips. Akame noticed the action. "Hm..." 'She' wagged her finger. "Would you be willing it to teach me… _personally?_ "

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

As Uchiha Sasuke, he had been rebuffed from entering the Shinobi Section of the library numerous times. Through sheer persistence and the greasing of hands, he'd managed to convince a Genin to retrieve books from the library and provide them to him, in order to increase his repertoire of skills and abilities.

Upon devouring every book in the Genin section, he'd attempted the same tactic with a Chunin.

However, he'd underestimated a Chunin's loyalty to the village. His deed was reported to the Hokage, and the Genin boy was discovered and punished. A little while later, the Hokage informed the shinobi corps, thus permanently ruining any chances of him furthering his own shinobi education through the same method.

The village sought to stifle his progress at every turn, and so, for the last year, his skill repertoire consisted of mastering the basics to an absurd level, and rifling through his clan library and belongings of deceased Uchiha shinobi for more.

A year was enough to have learned every technique and fighting style known by every shinobi in his clan who'd bothered to document their moves. Granted, he could not perform some of the higher tier techniques as the amount of chakra he had was insufficient, or his height and reach was not suitable, or he did not have the muscle mass, etc.

He'd celebrated his accomplishment for a brief second, before a dawning thought reached him.

 _These techniques I've learnt… Itachi knows them all._

Itachi most likely knew of all of the Clan-specific Jutsu himself, and as far as the _individual-_ specific jutsu were concerned, he would have faced off against them all while butchering his way through every man, woman and child. His Sharingan would have seen those movements, memorized those movements and conquered those movements –

So everything he'd learned, every technique and fighting style he'd painstakingly studied and mastered from the pages and journals and scrolls of his dead people –

They were all _useless._

None would put him on an even footing with Itachi.

He needed techniques that Itachi would not expect him to know. Techniques, skills and fighting styles unorthodox to the Uchiha Clan, and which he could redesign to be made _specifically_ to fight against an Uchiha.

Again, the village had been of no use.

They hoarded their Clan secrets and techniques, not understanding that he cared little about exposing their secrets, and desired only to garner tools necessary for his mission.

Those who didn't hoard their secrets, still refused to teach him because he was not a shinobi. If he desired to learn, he would need to become a Genin, but, the problem came in that Sarutobi was not _willing_ to let him be a Genin.

Not without wasting his time for another four years.

He _could not_ wait another four years. Itachi was out there, getting _stronger_ with each passing day and second, acquiring more experience and skill, and they expected him to sit down in a classroom, learning the _basics_ while the gap grew further?

No.

He needed to _close_ the gap.

He needed to _erase_ the gap.

And he would do it by any means necessary.

* * *

XXXXX

* * *

 **Three Weeks Later**

Yamanaka Inoichi ignored the pounding headache, as he rifled through the documents on his table. He could already feel the stare of the Elders on him, their judging, angry gazes lighting him up. He rifled through the picture, the undeniable evidence, and swallowed down the conflicting set of feelings he felt within him.

"So… it's true."

"You must do _something_ about this immediately!" Elder Morino slammed his hand on the table. "The rumors have already spread! Do you know how we are looked at, because – because of one _whore?_ "

 _Patience, Inoichi._ He took a deep breath. "She already lives outside of the Clan Compound. She has not been within our walls or guardianship for years now. What more do you want?"

"We demand she be officially stripped off the Yamanaka name and all associations." Elder Inore scrunched her nose up.

Inoichi scratched his head, staring further at the incriminating images. It was unlike Kino to do something like this… but at the same time, he felt it was his fault, for not reaching out to a member of his Clan so clearly traumatized.

"I don't particularly see anything wrong with what she's doing," Elder Inoka said, the woman's lips coy and amused. "We kunoichi have always used whatever advantage we have to get to the top. If anything, I commend her."

"Inoka-sama, you cannot be serious!" Elder Morino said. "Sleeping with shinobi in exchange for secrets and jutsu would be understood if we were at war, and she was consorting with the enemy, but to do such a thing within Konoha's walls is… _deviant!_ Abhorrent! Ridiculous!"

"You forgot _ingenious_ ," Inoka said. "Considering the drama that went on in the Hyuga Clan about a branch member being executed for stealing valuable clan jutsu all just to stick his tiny cock into a wet hole for a few minutes – I say she be welcomed back into the clan with open arms."

Elder Inoka's lips curled even more, and Inoichi gave her a look, as if to say, ' _please don't make this worse._ ' The wider smile she gave off only told him that it was a lost cause.

"All I can hear, Morino, is the sound of old shriveled balls and dried up cunts unable to handle a young woman's sexual freedom."

 _Why do I even bother?_

The cries and shouts, pointing and accusations returned, and once again, the Yamanaka Clan Leader Meeting dissolved into a flurry of insults, accusations, and juvenile name-calling. The clan fabled for their mastery of the mind arts and unrivaled knowledge of psychology and the human mind –

"I still remember having your memories of jerking over psychosomatic hallucinations of me in my youth!"

Was terribly, _terribly_ childish.

The meeting ultimately ended with a 'nobody wins, nobody loses' agreement of inviting Kino back into the clan to discuss her motives and methods, which, as far as Inoichi was concerned, was a decent win in his book.

"You need to have a firmer hand with these old coots Inoichi," Inoka said, smacking the back of his head. "Back when your father was in charge, he didn't give them the chance to strongarm him. He'd make a decision, and stick by it, and not even taking over his body would be able to force his lips to say otherwise."

Inoichi sighed. "I try my best, mother."

"Try harder," His mother furrowed her nose. "Speaking of young kunoichi… how has Ino-chan been doing in the academy?"

"…surprisingly well," Inoichi said. "She's more focused and determined. She's also made a friend –"

"From the Hyuga Clan? Inuzuka? Sarutobi?"

"A civilian friend, mother."

"From a merchant family? Noble? Daimyo?"

"A _female_ civilian friend, mother."

"Hm… well," Inoka scratched her nose. "The times _are_ changing. I suppose with a surrogate –"

Inoichi gave out an exasperated breath. "For god's sakes she's _eight_ mother!"

"And I was six when I was betrothed to your father." Inoka sniffed. "It's never too early, Inoichi. You're not dumb enough to think all the major clans in Konoha having children around the same age is a coincidence, are you? You need to start planning Ino's future. Heavens forbid she ends up marrying some no-name, emotionless, clan-less, and background-less man because he whispers a flattering word or two into her ear."

Inoichi let out another sigh. "And you keep asking why I rarely let her visit you."

"What about the Uchiha-boy?"

Inoichi straightened up. "What about him?"

"I didn't raise a daft son. You know what I mean."

"That's out of the question."

"Uchiha blood is old and potent. Once the boy grows older, he will no doubt begin to repopulate his clan. If the Yamanaka Clan were to have Uchiha blood –"

"Absolutely not."

Inoka smacked him on his head. "Stop thinking with your emotions and think with your head for once Inoichi! We are a Shinobi Clan. _You_ are the leader of a Shinobi Clan before you are a father. The good of the clan comes before your personal feelings – that is the burden of leadership."

He got up, grumbling under his breath. "I think I've had enough of this discussion mother."

"But _I_ have not," she stamped her cane unto the tatami floor. "I do not have many years left in me Inoichi, and I want to be guaranteed that the Yamanaka Clan has a bright future before I leave and meet your father. I can't imagine going up there and telling him that his son let an opportunity slip by his fingers because he didn't have the heart to be the type of man his father was."

"Mother, you know I hate –"

His stopped his words as a masked ANBU wearing a boar mask appeared in the room. Considering ANBU had limitations as to where they could and could not go, he realized the ANBU in question was also a Clan Member.

"Inoichi-sama, Inoka-sama," the male voice behind the mask spoke. "Apologies for the interruption. A matter of grave importance has occurred related to the clan and the Hokage has requested me to bring Inoichi-sama immediately."

Inoichi could already feel the headache coming. "Let me guess, this is about Kino?"

The ANBU's voice attained a slight hint of surprise. "You are… aware?"

"We just concluded a meeting about it," Inoichi sighed. "To think sleeping with a few shinobi would cause so much ruckus that even the Hokage would get involved."

"…Inoichi-sama… that isn't why the Hokage requested your presence."

He frowned. "It isn't?" _Odd_. "I thought you said the matter had to do with Yamanaka Kino?"

"It does," the ANBU said. "It has to do with her murder."

The room temperature dropped instantly.

"…What?"

"Yamanaka Kino is dead."


End file.
